


Concerning Bycatch

by Kathrine Snow (ProlongingthePrologue)



Category: Luigi's Mansion (2001), Super Mario & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-18 00:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13670526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProlongingthePrologue/pseuds/Kathrine%20Snow
Summary: An old building is an ideal place to stay if you have nowhere else to go. Unfortunately, this old building is already occupied.~ A Luigi's Mansion story





	1. First Arrivals

 

**Notes**

This story contains spoilers for both the Luigi's Mansion game (not that there's much to spoil there) and my personal works. Proceed with caution if such things matter to you.

All Nintendo characters (Mario, Luigi, King Boo Etc.) are property of Nintendo.

* * *

 

****

   The building stood just a few feet off a cliff overlooking a bay, surrounded on three sides by dense, black forest. It was huge with elegant lines to its structure, almost a castle, but not quite. The place had probably been picturesque once, but that would have been a long time ago. Now it was a forgotten, abandoned husk: a shadow of something that had once been.

 

   Thick clouds had brought on a premature evening, something that was not needed given how short the days were around here. The wind was picking up as well, shrieking awfully through the bare branches of the trees; the building was adding its own two cents to the situation, like an old man complaining about his rheumatism. Then it started to rain.

 

  Two massive figures glided over the gate and landed in the courtyard.

 

    Murzim landed first, dropping like a stone onto the liquefied ground. He threw back his weight hard, mud and grass splattering his heavy scales, straining to close his wings before he was tossed into the side of the building. Sasura landing a little ways beyond him, obviously having the same problem. After a moment, Murzim managed to recover himself, but Sasura wasn't so lucky. Another gust grabbed her and she was spun across the courtyard, claws leaving rents as she dug into the ground like a cat, screeching all the way. The little figure on her back--who had been throwing all their weight onto the outstretched wings in an attempt to help close them--tumbled to the ground with an inaudible splat.

 

   Murzim dashed forward to the aid of his sister, his own passenger slipping to the ground and running to the aid of hers.

 

   "Are you alright?" asked Comet, as she got closer to the mud covered, waterlogged thing on the ground. Novi pushed herself up and tried to brush the mud off her front.

   "Yeah..."

   "Don't worry, this rain will wash anything off," said Comet. She gave a bat at the mud herself, then grabbing hold of Novi's hand. "Come on."

 

   Murzim had helped Sasura close her wings by now, and both the dragons were loping for the relative shelter of the mansion eves. The two girls began to run as well, dashing forward to join them.

 

   "Are you two alright?" Said Murzim as they ducked beside his flank.

   "Perfectly alright," said Novi, trying, and doing a reasonably good job at sounding cheerful.

 

   Comet let the answer stand for both of them. She took off her sodden pack and tossed it against the wall, slumping down to the ground next to it. Novi followed suit.

 

   "So I guess the best thing to do is sit here and wait for the worst of this to pass?" said Comet. There weren't a whole lot of other options at the moment, so no one bothered to answer.

 

   They sat there for a good while before the weather calmed down. By the time it did, nobody seemed inclined to get up again. The dragons were both sprawled on the ground, liquid turf bubbling under their weight, staining their bright bronze hides a sticky shade of brown. Comet had pulled off her riding cloak and laid it across the ground, where she sat against the wall with half closed eyes and head tilted back. Novi lay sleeping beside her, head in her lap, Comet's fingers tracing absently through her wet tangle of hair.

 

   Murzim was the one to break the lull, heaving himself up and walking out into the remaining trickle of rain. He shook himself and stuck his nose into the drizzle, allowing it to wash away the mud, then turned back to the group.

 

   "There's no good reason to sleep on the ground with a building behind us," he said. "We should look for a way in."

 

   Comet nodded and gave her sister a little shake.

 

   Groggily, the little group got up, and with Murzim leading the way, followed along the wall looking for any sort of entrance. It didn't take long thankfully; the first corner they turned revealed what seemed to be a runaway kitchen garden, and eventually the door that accessed it.

 

   Comet tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge; whether it was locked, or just stuck, it was hard to tell. She grumbled a bit, then tried ramming the door a few times with her shoulder, but all this managed to do was bring down a shower of peeling paint.

 

   Comet took a step back, spluttering at the fluttering flakes.

 

   "Maybe we can get through a broken window. This place has plenty of them," She said as soon as she was out of danger of sucking the paint chips down. Without waiting for an answer she walked down the wall a ways and started inspecting the jagged edges of one of the lower windows. Novi took her place in front of the door.

 

   First she gave the door her own experimental shove. When that didn't work, she gave a peek at the crack between it and the frame. A moment later she had her rapier out and slid it gently into the space. The wet wood hissed as the ionized blade slid along its length. When she pulled on the door’s handle again it opened smoothly; the locking mechanism had been disintegrated.

 

   "That was smart," chirped Sasura, giving an affectionate snuff at her hair. "It's open," she barked out to their companions.

 

   Comet glanced over at them, and when she saw the open door for herself, made her way back.

 

   "I think I should go first," she said as she approached.

   "I know..." said Novi.

 

   Comet spared a moment to raise an approving eyebrow at the slagged lock, then peered into the black hole beyond the frame. It was almost totally dark inside, too dark to make out much of anything.

 

   Something slid into her free hand; she looked down to see Novi pushing a lantern at her.

 

   "Thank you," Comet said, flicking it on and holding it up.

 

   She looked around the room again, squinting past the white-out caused by the sudden light. What was immediately in front of her was a short, steep stairwell. Beyond, as she had suspected, was what was left of an old fashioned kitchen. She mounted the stairs cautiously, cracked tiles shifting under her feet. It was a lot bigger than she had anticipated, with what appeared to have been a servants dining room stretching away to one side, drifting off into undisturbed darkness. It was suppressingly quiet.

 

   "Well, it doesn't look like it leaks," said Comet, a little louder than necessary. She spared a glance back at Novi, who was standing in the doorway watching, uncertain as to whether or not that last statement was her cue to follow. Comet gestured with her head, and Novi stepped up the stairs to join her, her boots sounding loud on the stone steps.

 

   Comet could see by the way Novi was walking that she wasn't going to stop behind her and stepped forward herself. The two moved into the middle of the kitchen this way, more or less being driven by Novi. It was apparent that she was exhausted, but her curiosity was thoroughly piqued, and it wasn't hard to see why.

 

   The place had obviously been deserted for ages, but despite that, everything was in remarkably good order. Cobwebs peeked from the corners, there were two broken cups on the counter and a bent spoon under the table, but other than that, everything was in its proper place. The furniture was remarkably undamaged, and the table even had soft dust cloth draped over it. It was as if whoever had left had every intention of coming back some day. Novi was fascinated.

 

   There was a horrendous scraping behind them. Comet whipped around to see Sasura trying to worm her way up the stairwell. The dragon had somehow managed to force her head and shoulders through the little doorway, and she was twisting in almost a corkscrew to get the rest of herself through. She clawed at the stairs, but their hard, polished surface was giving her no grip; all she was managing to do was mar them with massive spider scratches.

 

   "Stop, stop!" shouted Comet.

   Novi instantly ran back to help her, Comet set down the light and followed.

    "You're going to get stuck," said Novi. She looked back and forth over the situation, trying to find out exactly what she could do.

   "I'm fine." Sasura growled. "I almost have it.

 

  "Go back!" ordered Comet, "This isn't going to work."

   Sasura huffed and twisted her neck to glare at Comet; her tone was obviously not appreciated.

   "Just go back," Comet repeated, attempting a less severe tone. "We can find another way in."

 

   Sasura huffed again, untwisted, and began to back out. Or at least she tried. Her eyes widened as it hit home exactly how bad a situation she had got herself into. Sasura pulled back again and again, efforts quickly deteriorating into a panicked thrash. Behind her the wood frame buckled and cried; that door was never closing again.

 

   "Stop! You're not helping! You're going to take the whole front of the building with you!" yelled Comet.

 

   Novi ducked forward between Sasura's flailing talons and grabbed hold of her massive muzzle.

   "You're fine, it's fine," she said gently. "We'll help you out, just calm down."

   Sasura stopped her thrashing, breathing heavy and ragged.

   "Okay," said Novi, rubbing her hands softly over Sasura’s nose. "Just hold still."

  

   The dragon gave an embarrassed grumble as Novi clambered over her shoulder into the stairwell. There was a white flash as she created a light.

   

   "You've got spines embedded in the door frame," Novi called back after a moment.

   "Move forward some," said Comet, peering as best as she could into the jammed stairwell.

   Sasura shifted, invoking a yelp from beneath her.

   "Wait, let me move!" said Novi. The light dowsed as she scrambled as fast as she could back over Sasura's shoulder. Then proceeded to fall flat on her face as her cloak snagged on the dragon's shoulder crest. Or at least she would have if Sasura wouldn't have caught her.

  

   The dragon set her down and shifted again, trying to pull forward, but the stairs still refused her any grip.

 

   "Now what," she said, then squawked as she was butted from behind.

 

   Murzim pushed her again, there was a pop, a splinter of wood, and Sasura jarred forward.

   "That should do it," said Comet. "Now turn sideways."

   Sasura lay down on her side and carefully, Murzim dragged her out.

 

   There was a period of silence after the resolution of the catastrophe.

 

   Comet stood at the top of the stairs, hand over her nose in frustration. When something squeaked and skittered near the floorboards, she started. Novi pretended not to notice.

 

   "Now what?" she asked quietly, glancing up at Comet.

 

   Comet placed her hands on her hips and took stock of the situation. Novi was sitting on the bottom step, looking up at her in a' trying not to doze' sort of way. Outside the door, she could make out Murzim's feet, pressing massive holes in the sodden turf. She couldn't see Sasura, but knowing her, she had probably slunk off a little ways in shame. This whole situation was a disaster.

 

   "We'll figure something out."

 

   "You two should find an adequate place to rest," said Murzim.

 

   Novi sat up quickly, all of a sudden looking much more awake, and none too happy. Comet saw the warning signs; Novi was more likely to head back outside and sleep on the ground than leave Sasura in the rain. She gave a hesitant cough, but Murzim saved her the trouble of attempting to make a case.

 

   "Sasura and I will circle around and find a place for ourselves. The rain has stopped, and we will be comfortable enough. It'll be a good experience for her, and that's all assuming we can't just find another way in."

 

   Novi sighed, and the fire in her eyes faded.

   "Okay."

 

   Murzim puffed, his universal cue that he wanted to discreetly talk to Comet. Comet glanced at Novi; the sooner they found a place to sleep the better, but this room wasn't exactly the most ideal location. If they were going to look for something better, though, they needed to move soon. But Novi had a bit left in her still, she was fine for now, at least for long enough to see what Murzim wanted. She stepped out to meet him.

 

   It had indeed stopped raining, though the sky was still as black as before; there was no telling how long the rest would last. The night seemed even darker with the light of the flood lamp seeping through the door behind her.

 

   "I'm assuming that you'll be going further in," Said Murzim.

   "Probably. I would prefer to be in a room where the door actually closes."

   The dragon nodded.

   "Choose where you like, but I would be most comfortable if you were near a window. So we can at least see where you are."

   "Of course."

 

   There was a brief silence.

 

   "You aren't terribly satisfied with this place, are you?"

   "Not, particularly, no."

   "Is there a reason? Some concern?"

   "It makes me uneasy," said Comet, then paused at Murzim's questioning look. "I'm probably just a bit edgy, over tired. There's nothing wrong with the castle; it's better than half the places we've stayed before, and definitely preferable to under one of those trees over there," she said, motioning with her head. "Having Novi here is just making me overcautious."

   "Maybe that's not a bad thing." he replied gently.

   Comet Shrugged.

 

   Murzim gave a low grumble, pointedly announcing his dislike for her manner.

   "I hope this humor of yours will pass with some sleep, little one," He said, the growl creeping over into his tones.

   "Probably," said Comet.

 

   Murzim huffed, stood up, and gave himself a light shake.

   "Sasura and I won't go far, we'll be there if the need arises," He said more gently, giving her hair a snuff. "Good night."

   "Good night, Murzim."

  

   With that, the dragon turned, and walked down the side of the building. Comet went back inside.

 

   Novi was sitting on the stairs still, looking even more awake and reasonably concerned.

 

   "Is everything okay?" she asked.

   "Yeah, everything's fine, Murzim just wanted to compare plans. They want us to find a room with a window to stay in so they can know where we are."

   "So we're moving."

   "I think we should head at least a little further in. See what we can find."

 

   Comet propped the garden door in the closest vicinity of closed that the thing would allow. After the nights circumstances it was in quite a state; it was only half on its hinges, the paint had been completely ripped off the inside by Sasura's rough hide, and that was saying nothing about the slagged lock and the devastated frame. It certainly wouldn't be keeping anything out.

 

   "Why can't we just stay here?" asked Novi.

   "Because we need to be somewhere with a door that closes."

   "Murzim and Sasura aren't outside?"

   "They aren't anymore. they went looking for a better place to rest. And I-" she stopped suddenly, listening, eyes darting around the little room. She could have sworn she had heard something, a hissing, spitting kind of noise. But all that was there was Novi, looking rather confused.

 

   "Come on, let's go."

 

 

 

 

• • •

 

   Silver white orbs drifted around the room, milling in a silent display of tension and excitement. The air pricked with the ghosts' anticipation and more than a little of their unease. They were coming. They were here. Both of them. How had they both managed to make it here at the same time?

 

   King Boo rested in the center of the silent chaos, a pillar of collected, if slightly forced calm. Many of the other boos in the room flocked close to him to share in that feeling of confidence. Or, at least, mock confidence.

 

   It was true, this was not how things had been intended to go; his whole thing had hinged around encountering the brothers separately; he had gone to special pains to make sure this wouldn't happen.

 

  But somehow, despite everything, it had still happened. He would need to discuss this at length with those responsible for carrying out that phase of things. How they could've gotten it wrong, the one thing in this whole venture he had specifically planned for, he didn't know. But those weren't thoughts for now. For now, he would improvise.

 

   On top of all this, there was a new complication; somehow, they had managed to get into the wrong door. How they had manage to get through the seal placed there was another thing that would need to be discussed; he was just glad that someone had noticed their arrival in time to relocate the ambush and clear any of the resident ghosts from the area. They had managed to keep the element of surprise on their side, which at least gave him something to work with.

 

   Now that he thought about it, though, maybe the ambush wouldn't be the most appropriate way to proceed; not in these circumstances. With a little trouble, they could very well set things to the way they were meant to be initially. All he would need to do was hold back the attack, let them become more at ease, then discreetly separate them.

 

   Another boo darted into the room and flew straight to the king, interrupting his contemplations.

 

   "They're here! They're at the door!"he squealed. Instantly the room broke into silent panic.

 

   King Boo risked a chirp. It got instant attention from all present. Without a sound, he drifted behind one of the many pieces of furniture in the room. The rest of the boos followed his example.

 

   King Boo was mildly surprised when the scout who had brought the alert followed him into his hiding place.

   "Sir, I-" he began, as softly as his urgency would allow.

   King boo raised an arm to quiet him.

   "Have they made any other detours through sealed doors?"

   "No."

   "Are they on route to this room?"

   "They're coming up the stairs now, sir."

   "Good," said King Boo, letting the inkling of tension that had crept over him melt away."

   "But sir I-"

   "Silence," said the King softly. The scout didn't dare to speak again.

 

 

 

 

• • •

 

   Comet tramped up the stairs, holding the light high, Novi stepping at her heels.

 

   The room beyond the kitchen had been a huge servant's hall; if the dragons had only been able to make it through the garden door there would have been plenty of room for them in that chamber. The place had quickly been ruled out as a place to sleep, though.

 

   Some sort of thick, luminescent web was laced over some of the doors leading off the chamber. Novi had almost poked the stuff when Comet wasn't looking; why, or what she had been thinking, Comet had no idea. All things considered, those webs might not be uncommon in places like this, but they were definitely not things that existed were the two of them were from, and Comet wasn't keen on meeting whatever had made them. Not tonight.

 

   Needless to say, this turn of events hadn't exactly helped Comet's view of the place, she didn't say anything though; there was no point in worrying Novi. With a few precautions, they'd be fine, it shouldn't be too hard to prevent being walked in on by oversized spiders.

 

   Yep, for sure, she just needed to relax, no need to worry.

 

   Whatever the creatures infesting the downstairs they didn't seem to like the upstairs, so that’s were Comet and Novi were going.

 

   The whole upper level was open to the hall below, (which is how they had known that there was no webbing on the doors up there). It was just a banister ringing the upper half of the hall with closed chambers branching off it at regular intervals. Comet tried the closest door to her, but it was also locked or at least badly stuck.

 

   "Should I..?" asked Novi."

   "No, don't bother," said Comet, not particularly keen on ruining more doors.

 

   She tried the next one, and then the next, moving around the hall until they found one that opened with relative ease. Comet pushed it open slowly, shining the light into the room beyond.

 

 

 

 

• • •

 

  The excitement of the boos surged as the handle of the door turned and it gently swung open. That excitement was a bit soured though at the torrent of burning white that flooded inside. King Boo hissed; the light they carried was a flood lantern. Why did they have equipment like that? As his vision adjusted to the glare he realized there was something else very wrong.

 

   They weren't the right people.

 

   The figures in the doorway appeared to be human, but they were nothing like the brothers he was expecting. The first was tall, the copper curls suggestive of an inhabitant of Sarasaland, but her deep olive skin seriously undermined that assumption, as did the sharp angles of her body and face. The other was smaller, younger, and a bit more like the humans he was used to, but there was still an air about her that was undeniably foreign.

 

   Who were they? Why were they here?

 

   The two hung in the doorway for a moment, waving their light in the most frustrating manner, ignorant of the fact that they were standing in front of a room stuffed to the brim with boos. Eventually, the older stepped forward, the younger trailing behind.

 

   King boo could sense they were ill at ease, or at least, the older was, but it was a vague feeling, and he doubted they truly expected anything. He pondered what to do. It would be easy enough to deal with this pair of bedraggled, uninvited intruders; even with that blasted light, they were unprepared and unsuspecting. But maybe it would be better to wait. After all, he had no idea when his true quarry would arrive. The way these two wandered wasn't very purposeful; it was likely the only reason they were here was to shelter from the weather. They would no doubt wander away and sleep, then he could deal with them at his convenience. The Mario Brothers were the ones who truly required the ambush.

 

   The rest of the boos waited tensely. They knew they were supposed to wait for the king's command; now that his mind was made King Boo only hoped the resolve of his loyals would hold. He could feel the tension vibrating around him, thickening the air until he could hardly believe the humans couldn't sense it.

 

   The two were taking their sweet time deciding what they were going to do. They meandered into the middle of the room for no apparent reason, the younger taking the liberty of poking at everything. Eventually, mercifully, they made their way to a side door, a locked one.

 

   "Open it," the king hissed to the scout still at his side. The little boo vanished and darted to the door, flicking into the lock just as the human's hand rested on the handle. It opened without a sound, and the two disappeared into the hall beyond, shutting the door behind them.

 

   When he was sure they were gone, King Boo drifted into the open. The rest of his subjects followed his lead; it was obvious that they were confused and not altogether satisfied with how things had panned out.

 

   "Well done," he said as the scout abandoned the lock. The little boo was vibrating with nerves.

   "I assume that was what you were trying to tell me?" the king asked, gesturing to where the two strangers had disappeared.

   "Yes sir."

 

   "Why didn't we attack?" piped up a boo from the gathering.

   "Because they aren't our target," said King Boo, loud enough for everyone to hear with no mistake.       

   "They will be dealt with at the right time, but for now we have other, more important guests coming."

 

   "You," he said, pointing out the boo who had announced the two as the Mario Brothers in the first place. The boo flinched.

   "Follow them, and report to me where they go."

 

   The boo darted away instantly, glad to get off with such a slap on the wrist. The rest stood to attention as their king restated their orders and reset the ambush for their still expected arrivals.

 

 

 

 

• • •

 

   Comet shut the door behind them as soon as they left that room. The longer they were here, the more displeased she was with the situation. She kept having the feeling that she was being watched and didn't like it; they were getting out of this place the second the weather allowed.

 

   Novi had definitely picked up on her uneasiness by now. She had stopped wandering ahead, sticking close behind Comet instead; though her actions seemed more out of consideration for her sister than concern on her own part. She seemed to have more or less chalked Comet's unease up to rodents, general stress, and maybe the one bat they had managed to disturb. Comet had mixed feelings about this, but at least Novi was happy.

 

   "Are we going to stop soon?" asked Novi.

   "Yeah," said Comet. "Just trying to find a good room."

 

   Novi nodded and started trying door handles along the hall, Comet following her example. Most all of them were locked, and the few that did open revealed less than preferable quarters. Eventually they did manage to find a room that suited them. It wasn't a bedroom, more of a sitting room, but it had a window, and neither of them were in a mood to be picky.

 

  Comet set up the sleeping rolls on the floor while Novi arranged their supplies and propped the lamp up in front of the window.

 

   "You're a mess," she commented as she joined Comet by the two piles of blankets.

   "You are too," Said Comet, "But there's not a lot we can do about it."

   Novi gave a quiet sigh as her sister dropped down into the blankets and proceeded to remove and fold her cloak. Comet reached over and wiped a smear of mud off her forehead.

   "We'll head down to the water tomorrow before we leave and get cleaned up. Wash the cloaks too, they need it."

 

   Novi smiled and gave a sort of half nod, placed the muddy bundle at the end of her bed, and crawled under the blankets. It only took her a few minutes to drift off after that. Comet tried to follow her example: sleep before her vague anxieties and other less than savory thoughts crowded in. She turned over and inched her pallet closer to her sister. Novi was sleeping like a rock, one hand thrown over her face to block out the light. Comet smiled to herself and pulled her own blankets over her head. Everything was fine. She was worrying too much.

 

 

* * *

**More Notes for the Interested**

This story is a character test run.

Basically, a character test run is inserting someone of your own into another person's world. In essence, it's just an OC insert, but there are a few key differences.

An OC is tends to be created specifically for the purpose of infiltrating other people's stories--whether they be a world jumper who visits all the stores or somebody custom crafted to fit somewhere specific. They rarely leave the worlds they visit, unless they're the world jumping kind, and even then usually don't wind up with world of their own. The only way someone leaves the realm of the 'OC' is if their creator becomes attached to them and decides to give them a world all their own.

Character test runs are that, only backwards: they involve characters who already have their own stories, usually unpublished projects still in the making, and are just stepping out for a bit of fresh air and a heaping dose of character development.

Screen time is development time for characters; the more you write for them, the better they get. A character test run allows you to give even minor characters time in the limelight without the fuss of mess up the plot and cannon of your work.

The characters messing things up on this occasion are Comet, Novi, and their guardians Murzim and Sasura.

Why did they wind up in Super Mario? I have no earthly idea; it just sort of happened. I think I wanted to see how they'd clash with Princess Peach once, but that still doesn't explain why they ended up in Luigi's mansion of all games.

It is what it is, though, and it has turned out pretty fun, so I'm not complaining.

That should be all you need to know about this, so I'll quit drowning you in blathers. I hope you enjoy the story.


	2. The Second Guest

 

  Mario took off his hat and wrung it out on the ground; he couldn't have been more wet if he had fallen in a lake.

  The wind was picking up again, roaring through the bare trees, sucking away what little heat he had left to his name. He fumbled with his pocket, fishing out the sodden map plastered inside, and squinted at it through the glow of his flashlight. The ink had run some and there were a few chunks missing (probably still clinging to the fabric of his overalls), but as far as he could tell, he was still on track.

   

  Emphasis on 'as far as he could tell'. The trees all looked the same around here.

  

  It wasn't making him feel much better knowing he was probably walking to nothing. Mario had known this was probably a hoax going in. Luigi didn't even remember entering the sweepstakes when the flier arrive  and had been about to dump the whole thing in the trash before Mario suggested they check it out. If nothing else, it was a reason to get out and about for something other than a catastrophe.

 

  Though, at that point it had been a beautiful, clear afternoon.

 

  Mario wondered if the weather would delay Luigi much. It was likely; you would have to be crazy to walk willingly through the storm that had  passed; he was probably waiting for it to blow over. Mario wished he had just waited as well, then the two of them could have gone together in the first place and dodged the weather to boot.

 

  He wondered what time it was.

 

  A fresh wave of rain began misting between the trees. Marvelous.  it would be a torrent in ten minutes, Mario would be willing to bet money on it. He picked up his pace, plunging through the trees, wondering all the while what he would do about shelter if the mansion didn't exist.

 

  The ill kept path in front of him twisted and wove, not seeming to go anywhere at all. Then, with no signs of thinning, the woods gave way to a clearing.  Mario stopped at the edge of the trees, peering out at the opening. It was fairly large, much wider than it was long, and for the most part hemmed in by a spindly metal fence. Not far from where he stood loomed an ancient, equally crooked gate flanked by a pair of long dead torches.

 

  Beyond, he could just make out the black shape of a building.

 

  Even from that distance he could tell the place was falling apart.  This was definitely some sort of joke, but at least there was something here.  He pushed at the gate; it didn't budge. A bit of further inspection showed that it was only latched, not locked; it was simple enough to reach his hand through the bars and pry it open. It gave with the most horrifying screech he had ever heard a gate make, and he had been through a good few disused gates.

 

  Beyond, what was left of a stone path led towards the building. He stuck to it gratefully; the overgrown lawn was lower than the ground of the forest, and the whole area was swamped from the storm. As predicted, the rain was growing heavier. He increased his pace again, all but sprinting toward the dilapidated wreck, then something caught his boot and he stumbled, nearly falling face first into the mud.

 

  He turned back as soon as he had gotten his balance, looking for what he had tripped on. It was one of the pave stones, one that had been ripped out of the ground.  That wasn't what held his attention, though.  Despite the elements he stood there for a long moment, surveying the spot. A long, deep set of claw marks raked across the path, shredding well into the lawn. Pools of water had formed in them, making a network of little streams.

 

  They were huge, and they were new.

 

  Mario diverted off the path, following the shredded turf. Where the marks ended a set of tracks began, massive, taloned prints pressing deep into the ground. The night's first twinge of real uneasiness set in. He glanced around at the rest of the lawn, but all was still and quiet.

 

  There was a moment of hesitation, then he pulled his hat down and continued to follow. He knew from experience it was better to find things like this than have things like this find you. Best to check this out before it turned into a real problem.

 

  In the back of his mind, he began to wonder how innocent this 'prank' really was.

 

  The trail circled up to a protruding wall of the building where there was a deep impression in the ground under the eaves. With a bit of looking, he was able to pick up the trail again, leading around the corner. He followed this bit very cautiously, and only after a long moment of listening; he did not want to find himself face to face with Bowser or who knows what else.

 

  But when he finally made the turn, there was nothing.

 

  The longer he followed the trail, the more he became aware that it was uneven. Some prints seemed larger than others, and they seemed to wander independently, meandering loosely parallel the mansion. He reached a low stone wall, stepped over it, then stopped. The ground was clearer here with more weeds and bare ground than grass. There, in the mud, side by side, were two unique sets of tracks, one significantly larger than the other.

 

  "Mama Mia," he mumbled under his breath.

 

  He lifted his light and looked around him uneasily. There were no signs of the creatures other than the prints. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to track these things down.  Not far away was a side door, he made for it quickly, not wanting to be in the open any longer than necessary, but stopped and drew back as it was caught more fully in his light.

 

  The door was devastated. It swung listlessly back and forth, clinging to the frame on half a hinge. The paint on the inside was scraped away, the wood was pulped, and the door frame was in no better condition.  Mario placed his back against the outside wall, bracing himself for a fast action if need be, and gave the door a firm push. It creaked abominably, and he snatched his hand away, but there was no other sound. After a few extra moments, he cautiously poked around the corner.

 

  There were claw marks here too, the stairwell inside the door was laced with them. He climbed the steps cautiously, swinging his beam across the rest of the room, but it was empty, or more accurately, intact.

 

  Mario stepped inside and inspected things more carefully, but there were no other signs of damage, at least nothing major. There were a few broken cups on a counter, but he had a hunch that if either of the creatures had gotten in here, the room would look much worse than that.

 

  So the mansion was safe, or at least, relatively safe.

 

  He looked back at the door; the fact that it wouldn't close anymore bothered him. It was a mental thing and he knew it, it obviously hadn't lasted long on it's first encounter with the creatures, but he would still have rathered shut and bolt the thing all the same. Then another uncomfortable thought struck him: if the things came back around and managed to see or smell him, the extra motivation may just be enough to squeeze them through the doorway.

 

  He retreated further into the building.

 

  There were no other signs of the creatures. Excepting the thick coat of dust on everything, the inside of the building was pristine.  It was an odd parallel given the way the outside looked.  There were sheets of glowing webs over some of the doors he passed, something he did not like, but no sign of imminent danger.

 

  Mario started trying doors, hoping to get a bit further away from the entrance. They were all locked.  With nowhere else to go, he climbed the stairs to the second level. The first door he tried there was locked as well, but the second wasn't.

 

  He didn't open it.

 

  There were a few other doors on this level; he tried them all, but as he suspected, none would budge. The little thread of anxiety that had been chewing at him changed to annoyance. So in all this massive place there was only one door that would open?  There was no doubt in his mind now, there was something seriously wrong here.

 

  Behind him, the unlocked door rattled, and he whipped around to glare at it. Slowly, with the tiniest creak, it unlatched and swung open. He braced himself, ready for whatever happened next, but nothing came.

 

  Mario crossed his arms, something of a scowl crossing his face as he considering his options. This whole thing was a trap, that was clear enough to him now. So what was he going to do about it?  There was no way he would be allowed to just walk out, that wasn't how this kind of thing worked. He wished more than ever that he had waited for Luigi, but he hadn't, so that was out of the cards. He could probably go back downstairs, wait for him to arrive, but Mario had no idea how long that could take, and the longer he stayed in one place the higher the risk of things getting impatient and the whole place coming down around his ears.

 

  He had seen the ruin from the outside, the mansion was huge. Whatever was in that room was just the start, and the whole place was more likely than not chocked full with the most wonderful surprises. He was in for a long night, he might as well get started now, then meet up with Luigi whenever he showed up.

 

  Mind made, Mario approached the room, placing his back against the wall just as he had done for the front door. The room beyond was silent as the grave.  He spun forward, unleashing his firebrand and pouring a torrent of fireballs inside. That would be a hard introduction to ignore.

 

  Nevertheless, it was ignored.  

 

  Gradually he let the flames die, his every muscle tense, ready to leap to either side if the need arose, but there was still nothing. Cautiously, he stepped further into the doorway, scanning the interior of the room.  It was a sort of parlor, a scorched, empty parlor. He wished these things could be straightforward for once. Then the door snapped shut, slamming him in the back and sending him sprawling on his face.

 

  Mario rolled to his feet, rekindled the fire in his free hand, and backed against the door. He didn't bother to try the handle.  Lazily, like they had all the time in the world, boos started to drift out from objects in the room. Better than he expected at least; he could handle boos. His confidence started to shake though as they just kept on coming.  They seemed a lot braver than other boos he'd encountered as well, staring him straight on as they amassed into a chirping cloud.

 

  Mario didn't wait for them to make the first move; he launched forward with a shout, letting loose a stream of fire. The boos scattered, squealing as they went, then dove for him.

 

  He dropped low at their first pass, sidestepped the second, then bounced off the head of an unfortunate straggler, sending himself launching to the other side of the room. The rest let out a united cry and looped back around, fury burning in their beady eyes.  This time Mario stood his ground, bringing his light up into their faces as they charged. It worked a lot better than he had expected, instantaneously triggering the 'hide your face' reaction he was used to. He followed up his advantage, diving right into the middle of the pack with a flaming fist. Boos flew every which way, bouncing and bobbing like so many ghostly balloons.

 

  Leading with his light, he twisted to face the next wave of attackers. Boos scattered as he came, dodging the arch of the beam, ducking behind furniture or through the walls. Mario launched another stream of fire, breaking up an attempt to regroup, and charged again, bearing down on any boos less fazed by the light. He never stopped moving, twisting and turning, bouncing over the furniture like there was rubber in his shoes. Then recoiled horribly as he found himself face to face with another boo.

 

  It was right on top of him, inches away from his face. He backpedaled, swinging his light up into its eyes; it jarred as if it had received a physical blow, but kept coming. For an instant it paled, passing out of the solid spectrum, then dove into the flashlight.

 

  The beam began to flicker, light going from yellow to a purple-white, the casing growing warm in Mario's hand. He dropped it, stepping away as it clattered and rolled across the floor.

 

  There was a triumphant warble through the room as the boos lashed forward, all hesitance gone. Mario spun on his heels and released a barrage of flames from both hands, checking their triumphant surge. They recoiled and scattered, snarling and squealing, then swarmed forward again from all sides, pushing him back with sheer numbers.

 

  Slowly but surely, he was backed into a corner, the boos growing more confidant with every step he lost.

 

  Mario whipped back and forth, fighting to keep the ring from tightening in on him. The boos ducked and weaved, dodging the flames, gnawing away his ground inch by inch. It was like trying to fight a swarm of bees.  He let out a ragged blast of fire into the heart of the cloud. Boos flew left and right, squealing and whimpering as the hole was punched through their trap. More tried to fill the gap, but Mario was too quick for them, skidding between their ranks and sprinting for a door at the other end of the room.

 

  He was sure it would be locked, but that didn't matter a whole lot right now. He braced himself to ram it, hoping with all his being it would give.

 

  As it turned out though, it didn't matter.

 

  One of the boos sank its fangs into his shoulder. Mario yelled and grabbed at the creature with his other hand, but it slipped between his fingers, drifting away with a gleeful laugh. He could already feel his arm going limp, courtesy of the boo's special brand of venom.

 

  Momentum broken, Mario spun round, backpedaling against the new door to facing the oncoming horde. The boo cloud was right on his heels. He ducked, letting forward a one handed barrage of flames, but they were expecting that. The cloud arched, split as the attack passed, then dropped in a mass, smashing the man to the floor.  It was all over at that point. Mario tried to beat them off, with pitiful success. He was dragged to the center of the room, thrashing all the way, and pinned there.

 

  Slowly and deliberately, another boo emerged, solidifying in front of him. It was by far the largest boo Mario had ever seen.

 

  It looked over the situation leisurely, then chuckled in a self satisfied way.

  "So you are the Mushroom Kingdom's grand protector," he said, slowly and deliberately. "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mario, well met indeed."

 

  Mario grit his teeth. The boo laughed again.

  "I suppose you know who I am. Or do I need to make a proper introduction of myself?" he asked gleefully.

 

  Again, Mario didn't answer. He knew what the thing in front of him was; he had heard rumors of him before, though never confirmed his existence. And even if he hadn't, the jeweled crown perched on the boo's head would have clued him in.

 

  "Some would consider it quite rude, not answering one's host," said the boo, sounding anything but bothered.

 

  Mario started to thrash again; he wasn't just going to stay there flattened in front of this thing. The boos around him squealed in shock as he managed to get a knee underneath himself, and despite their numbers, begin to heave upward.

 

  Another set of fangs punched into his leg, and he let out a grunt of pain; the boos took full advantage of the situation, shoving him all the way down on his face.

 

  Their king looked amused.

  "I must say, you're quite impressive," he said, drifting down to the level of his prisoner, dark sparks fizzing into existence around his arm. "Your reputation is well earned. Rest assured though, I have no intention of underestimating you."

 

  Mario thrashed violently as the king reached down towards him. He yelled again, writhing as the magic leapt through his system, then went limp as a boned fish, senseless.

 

• • •

 

_It was that perfect time of day; the sun was shining through the massive windows almost blindingly, giving the marble it's own pearly glow. The paintings on the opposite wall watched any who passed with almost a lifelike vigor. In front of each picture rested a stand protected by heavy glass, inside lay each monarch's crown, never to be touched again._

_Comet walked down the hall, watching the faces she knew all too well, then stopped at the place she always did. She had never seen those last four pictures, and didn't want to._

_She turned around, walking back the way she had come._

_The halls were silent; bright colors and glistening tiles only strengthening the feeling of perfect solitude. That is, almost perfect solitude. Up ahead somewhere, a pair of footsteps clicked across the marble. It was an odd, hobbling gait, Comet recognized it instantly. The sound stopped, and was replaced by the soft swiffing of a duster being worked for all it was worth; it was Anna without a doubt._

_Comet lengthened her stride, glad not to be alone anymore. She rounded the corner, completely expecting to see the woman cleaning one of the cases, but the hall beyond was empty, and the sound had vanished._

_Comet kept walking, confused._

_She wandered aimlessly from there on, seeing no one. The place was completely empty; brilliant, glistening, and deserted. She quickened her pace, opening doors and searching rooms, looking for anyone at all. Occasionally there would be sounds: voices, music, footsteps, but any time she approached them they would disappear._

_It was starting to get unnerving._

_In time Comet found herself in front of the nursery, somewhere she hadn't been in quite a while. She pushed the door open on her old room; the lavender walls were beautiful to see after the sterile gold and white of the halls. It was just the way she had left it, if a little cleaner, even her old teddy bear was still on the bed, the one she had given to Novi when she had been born, along with the room. Comet had always called him Simon, but Novi was always dead set on Samantha. Old drawings still hung on the walls as well, just about every scribble she and Novi had ever made. Comet pulled one of them down; it always made her smile that Novi 'signed' her work with a smudgy thumb print in one corner._

_Suddenly she stiffened, all attention snatched by a soft sound from the other room._

_It was a song, one that Novi's mother would sing. Every once and again, their father's voice would try to chip in, doing his best to match the soft, sweet tune. Comet dropped the drawing and threw open the door, as if speed could trick the shadows into being seen. It crashed open onto the little playroom that connected to the nursery, toy boxes, pillows on the floor, and all. On the wall hung three paintings, each covered with pure white cloth._

_There was no one there._

_Her eyes flicked across the room two or three more times, not knowing what else she had expected. Softly and respectfully she closed the door again, then retreated into the hall and ran._

_She ran straight for the dragon's chambers._

_"Murzim!" she shrieked as she approached, but there was no answer. She continued to call all the way to the end of the hall, without getting so much as a shadow of a response._

_Fine._

_She switched directions, ducking down a corridor and out into the courtyard. The garden was lovely, flowers spurting up everywhere; Comet tore between them without giving them so much as a glance, forcefully tuning out the voices that sprang up between the hedges._

_There was a tree growing against the back wall, Comet headed straight for it. She swung into it with practiced ease, using the rough stones as a brace as she made her way up. Once you were in the branches there was no way anyone could see you, if there really was anyone left to see her in this place, it was simple enough to get over the wall from there._

_She got about half way to the lip before she heard the creak of Novi's swing._

_Comet turned and looked down at the bit of rope dangling from the branches. The noise kept on, slowly and softly, though nothing moved, and no one was there. Novi had claimed this as her spot, the place where no one would bug her, and though it was never said, the place where she would wait when she sensed Comet was in the mood to 'duck out'._

_Then they would argue. Occasionally Novi would win, much of the time Comet would just duck out anyways. Or they would go together..._

_Comet dropped out of the tree. She couldn't leave, not yet, she needed to go back to the castle, and look for Novi at least._

_The sounds in the hedges had been steadily growing louder all this time; a crowd seemed to have gathered, or at least the shadows of a crowd. But something about them sounded wrong. Comet gave an annoyed look back at the bed of flowers, half expecting the whole thing to go silent the second it had her attention, but it didn't._

_The din grew louder, high and sharp, a chirping and squealing rather than actual words, then curved inward, flying at her though the flowers._

 

• • •

 

  Comet thrashed, her arm landing with a puff on the pallet beside her. The blankets shifted as their occupant rolled over, making sound between a whine and a coo.

 

  Light from the still lit lamp was seeping through the weave of the blanket over her head.

 

  She was still in the mansion. Everything was alright.

 

  Comet lay quietly where she was, eyes open, taking soft, deep breaths. There was a gentle murmuring through the room, and a draft was running along the floor. Maybe there was a hole in the window, or the frame didn't fit right. Somewhere along the floorboards, a rodent started to nibble. Comet flinched.

 

  Then jumped straight into the air as a cry rang from the halls.

 

  Comet thrashed the remainder of the blankets off of her, snatched her weapon, and bolted for the door without a second thought. She drew her sword as she skidded into the black halls, activating its ionized edge; the soft light it gave was just enough to maneuver by. Behind her there was a slam as Novi tore out of the room after her.

 

  Comet didn't stop. The cry seemed to have come from near where they had come in, at least, that was her best estimation. She skidded down another turn, retracing their steps to the entry hall with a mix of memory, and the occasional muddied footprint they had left behind.

 

  She stopped when she reached the door of the parlor. It hung just the slightest bit ajar.

 

  Cautiously she gave it a push, it swung open almost noiselessly. The room beyond was perfectly dark; she couldn't make out much without a proper light, but there was a soft, burning smell drifting at her from inside.

 

  Comet raised her sword and entered the room, poking the thing around like a glowstick. It was obvious that something was wrong right off; the place was a wreck. Furniture was turned over and smashed, things that looked and smelled like scorch marks were everywhere. Across the floor was a smear of muddy footprints; some were her own and her sisters, she could tell by the tread of the boots, but the majority of them were not.

 

  Someone else had definitely been here, and by the looks of it, things had not gone well for them.

 

  But what had happened to them, and where were they now?

 

  She stepped through the door back into the hall. She was sure she had shut that door when She and Novi had left the room initially. She remembered it distinctly, the room had bothered her, so she had shut the door. But it was open now, it must have been the way the newcomer had gone, or been taken... She raised her sword and looked for signs of anyone passing, but the hall was empty.

 

  The hall was empty.

 

  Where was Novi?

 

  A fifteen pound brick of panic dropped into her stomach, she had heard her sister follow her out of the room.

  "Novi!" she shouted.

 

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it probably wasn't a good idea to be announcing her position. But it didn't seem to matter; there was no answer from Novi, or anything else.

 

* * *

 

**Notes  
**

Let the Chaos Begin.


	3. In Which things go South

 

   King boo hovered at the head of the procession as his prized prisoner was dragged through the halls.

 How the tables had turned, and after such an evening of unnecessary discomfort. The great Mario had delivered himself up on a silver platter, things couldn't have turned out much better than this.  The king was so exuberant he almost didn't mind the mud being tracked across the fine (if a bit dusty) carpet. Though that would need to be dealt with sooner than later; it wouldn't do to leave a trail for their next 'guest' to follow.

 As if on cue, another boo fazed through the ceiling just ahead of the party. King boo stopped, signaling for the rest of the procession to do the same.

 "Has our other guest arrived yet?" he asked as the newcomer attempted to gather himself.

 "No sir, it's the others," was the enthusiastic reply.

 Ah yes, the others.  King Boo had almost forgotten about them.

 "What about them?"

 The boo in front of him sucked down an enormous breath, and the king raised an eyebrow.

"They've woken up and are exploring again, they suspect something for sure. It's likely they heard the fight in the parlor, because one of them went straight there," he blurted out.

 "No matter, they can't do us any harm," answered King Boo, then stopped and considered what he had just been told. "Only one of them went to the parlor?"

 "Yes sir. The other is wandering the halls," the scout continued, anticipating the next question.

 So they'd become separated and without any help at all.

 "Well, we can't very well have them wandering, not with such an important guest due to arrive at any time," said the King. "Take a few more boos with you, and deal with the situation."

 The scout nodded curtly and would have darted off then and there, but the king stopped him again with a chirp.

 "Though do try and bring at least one of them to me. It's rather odd for a pair of humans to show up on the doorstep, especially ones I've not heard of. I would very much like to know who they are and what they are doing here."

 The little boo smiled voraciously.  "Yes my liege,"  he said, and disappeared through the wall.

• • •

 Novi had technically woken up when Comet had slapped her.

 She had never been that heavy of a sleeper in the first place, and getting slapped like that would've woken anyone up. Not that she minded. She had just rolled over, drifting back into a sleepy stupor;

that is until somebody had yelled, and Comet tore out of the room.

 Needless to say, after that the thought of sleep had been blown right out of Novi's head. She was up instantaneously, grabbed the kit bag, and was off after her sister down the halls. There was no way she was being left alone after a sound like that.

 By the time she had hit the hall, Comet had already vanished around a corner. Novi ran after her anyways, as fast as she could, relying on the pounding footsteps ahead to know where to go. There was no way she was going to catch up--her sister was much faster than her, it was just a fact of life--but Comet had to stop sooner or later.

 The plan sounded good in theory, but it didn't take long for it to prove less than ideal in practice.

 Novi tore down a flight of steps then stopped, listening and gasping. She could still hear her sister's footsteps, but they were even further away now, still seeming to be going down. She hesitated, peering at the next flight of dark stairs. Up to this point, Comet had seemed to be retracing their path to the door. Thinking about it, though, why would Comet do that? She wasn't running away, no way, no how, she was looking for whoever was in trouble.

 Novi plunged down the stairs.

 She kicked herself for losing more time, straining her ears for the sound of steps, but they were fast fading in an undefinable direction. There was only one way to go, though, and that was straight, so she continued to run.

After a period of nothing but the pounding of her own steps, Novi stopped again and listened, but there was absolutely nothing to hear.

 This was bad...

 Novi took a deep breath. She did not want to be alone right now, but things were still relatively in hand. Comet would realize that she wasn't behind her sooner or later and would backtrack. That's how things always worked. She just needed to hold tight for a bit, and if it really came to it, she did know the way back to their room.

 Novi glanced around the hall she now found herself in. It was rather narrow with a decently high ceiling to compensate. The floor under the carpet was stone now, rather than wood, which was something to note.

 It also wasn't totally dark.

 Novi did a double take. Somehow it hadn't comprehended it in her mad dash, but some of the candles mounted along the walls were actually lit.  That would definitely explain why she hadn't been running into things this whole time, nevertheless, the entire concept of lit candles was not one she liked. Not on her own in a place that was supposed to be deserted.

 She glanced around again on instinct, suddenly realizing how short a distance she could actually see. Something could be done about that at least. She cupped her hands and blew a little white fire into existence then held it high in one hand. Instantly every detail of the hall was thrown into sharp relief. The hall was indeed, unarguably empty.

 That made her feel a little better.

 Batting away any uncomfortable notions, she began to look for signs of Comet passing through. After a few moments she was able to pick out a light trail of mud smeared across the carpet. Despite everything she sighed, glancing down at her own socked feet. Why Comet insisted on sleeping in her shoes all the time she had no idea. Particularly her mud caked travel boots; it just didn't make any sense.  But at least they had left a trail.

 Novi followed, keeping her mind focused on the line of mud in front of her, grateful for some indication of where to go. But it was short lived. The mess wound on for a good distance, but it didn't take her anywhere useful. After a while, it too started to fade away. Clothing can only hold so much mud after all.

 This situation required a new game plan.

 Novi tried listening again. She had wound herself deep enough into the place to mask any sounds of weather from outside. Her breathing sounded obtrusive against the wood siding, as did every rustle of her clothes. Heading back to their room was starting to seem like the best option.

 There was one other sound to be documented, a chirping, almost giggly sound, though it was very faint. She had noticed it a while ago, chances were it was just mice.

 She had been setting it aside as irrelevant up to this point; frankly, rodents were the least of her problems right now. It wasn't like they were anything new either, she'd been hearing signs of them ever since the kitchen, why bother with them now?  Mice weren't all that bad, if they scattered it would warn her that something was amiss; if somebody started following her or something wretched like that. She shuddered, pushing away the thought of the yell that had drawn her and her sister out in the first place.

 She stopped and blinked, forcibly clearing away the uneasy thoughts accumulating in her mind. This was getting out of hand. She made a sharp, decisive turn, heading back the way she had come.

 Despite this newly set resolution, Novi didn't make it far. The reason for this was the sudden disappearance of chittering.

 She stopped dead, whole frame tightening, eyes darting and ears strained for what could have caused the disturbance, but everything was still, and the hallway bare. Novi was unconvinced. She darted forward, running fiercely and silently across the stones. Her heart jumped into her mouth as she ran by something that hissed, but she didn't stop. There weren't many branches in the path here, but she ducked down the first one she saw, dowsing her flame and crouching in its shadow.

 There was silence.

 As her whits regathered, Novi began to wonder if maybe she had been the one to cause the disturbance. She had changed directions rather suddenly after all. As if to confirm her thoughts the chittering started up again, some ways back and from the direction she had come. Though it was growing louder quickly.

 She stood up and reignited her light, feeling kind of stupid, only to topple backwards as a violent squeal exploded to her right. She scrabbled for her weapon, backpedaling into the main hallway. Whatever she had startled hissed, trailing off into a warbly whine. The sound it made was almost exactly like...

 She turned, and ran again.

 The chittering behind her didn't stop this time, instead it rose, peaking with excitement. Needless to say Novi was feeling less keen about their presence by now. Despite her efforts to get away, though, whatever it was continued to gain.

 Novi made another executive decision.  She planted her heels and spun around to face them, weapon out and light held high.

 The sound bit off with a collective hiss as she turned. The hall was completely empty.

 Novi braced against the wall, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

'It sounds like a displeased tea kettle' she thought to herself, trying to scrape together her last few fragments of calm.

Nothing flew at her right away. She took another deep breath.

 First order of business was figuring out what it was. She ran a list through her mind of things that hissed, chirped, and hated light. Bats, rodents, and any other normal thing she was pretty sure she could rule out. Unless it was an oversized spider like the ones in the servant's hall...

She glanced at the roof, but there was nothing there either, just delicately arched beams.

 Something clattered and Novi snapped to it so fast her neck kinked. The only thing there was a stationary suit of armor. She cringed and began to inch sideways, keeping her back against the wall.

 Soon after she started to move in earnest the chittering stuck up again, closing in to the very edges of her light. Novi kept on, ducking her head as she walked, half expecting something to swoop at it, glancing over her shoulder every other step. The things didn't even bother to stop when she did this, just continued to mock her from the bare hall.

 This wasn't going down this way.

Novi stopped suddenly, whipped around, and charged back with a sharp yell, driving her blade at the emptiness.

There was a corresponding scream as whatever the thing was dove away from her. She continued to press at it, falling after the sounds with her weapon, waving her fire wildly in the other hand.

 They did not like that at all whatever they were. They squealed, hissed, and screamed as they scattered, trying to escape the oncoming light. After a few seconds of panic, the things retreated down the hall, shrieking all the way. There was another clatter as one of them smashed into the suit of armor.

 Novi held her ground for a long moment, looking fierce and breathing heavily. But everything was quiet, and this time, it stayed that way. She seemed to have earned herself a bit of peace, at least for the moment.

 And even if they did come back, she could deal with them, at least as long as she had light, which was something she wouldn't be running out of this side of the grave.

 Novi started walking back towards the room again.

 "Novi!"

 Novi stopped short.

 "Novi where are you!?"

 She felt a wash of relief, Comet had finally come looking for her.

 "I'm here!" she shouted, turning to walk back in the direction of the voice.

 "Come on Novi!" the voice shouted back.

• • •

 Comet smashed into the room they had been staying in.  It was empty, just as she had been afraid that it would be; Novi hadn't come back.

 She resisted the urge to spit.  The cry from the parlor was ringing in her ears; she had left Novi behind like an idiot, and now she was gone.

 She glanced across Novi's empty nest of blankets.  The pack that had been at the head of it was gone. She had probably grabbed it before running out of the room, but not--Comet put her hand over her face--but not her boots. Those were still resting at the other end of the pallet.  Novi had run out into the halls in socks.  What had she been thinking?

 Comet grabbed her own pack and the flood lamp, and plunged back into the halls.

 Novi had been right behind her when she left the room initially, Comet had heard her follow.   That meant she had to have made a wrong turn somewhere between here and the parlor.  Nobody could have grabbed her, not when Comet had been so close. Novi could fight like a cat if the situation arose. Given her particular 'talent’,  nobody could have taken her without a struggle, and Comet would have heard that.  She was probably wandering around right now, trying to find her way back, and Comet had to hunt her down her before anything else did.

 If worse came to worse, the dragons were right outside, and she could get them. They would find Novi if they had to turn the place to rubble in the process.  And if someone had caused her sister's disappearance, heaven help them when their guardians found them.

 Comet snapped out of her thoughts and stopped, listening intently.  She could have sworn...

 "Comet!" came the shout again, echoing faintly through the halls.

 Comet turned a full 180 degrees and dashed towards the sound, only to skid to a halt after the first few feet.  The call was coming from the wrong direction, the exact opposite of the way she had taken to the parlor.

 "Comet, where are you?" the voice shouted again.

 "Don't move, I'm coming!" Comet shouted.

 Novi had probably  tried to come back to the room, but overshot.

 Comet ran until the hall ended in a t-bone branch.  She stopped, confused.  If Novi had hit this she must  have known she had gone the wrong way; why would she kept on wandering?  She was about to shout herself, but was beat to the punch.

 "Come on Comet!"

 It was from the left hand path.

 "No, don't come on!  I said stay where you are!" Comet yelled back and started to run again.

 It was obvious pretty quick that the path she was on now led out of the servant's quarters.  The hall broadened steadily as she ran, growing more extravagant by the yard. Before long she was passing up grand halls and elegant curving staircases; not that Comet was terribly interested in the scenery right now.

 She stopped again, ready to risk another shout, but was immediately cut off by a call from around the next bend.  She was getting angry now, this chase was stupid and it wasn't like Novi at all.  Her sister was nothing if not prudent, and running around like this, especially given the circumstances, was about as imprudent as you could get.   Comet was being dragged deeper and deeper into this conflabid place, always going down, (at least two flights of steps already). Where the heck did she think she was going?

 And now that she thought about it, how was Novi staying ahead of her like this?  Novi couldn't outrun her on a good day, let alone hold the two steps ahead she had somehow managed to maintain this whole time.

 When Comet didn't start moving, the voice called again, this time plaintive.  It made Comet's heart turn over.

 "I'm onto you, you hear me?" she shrieked to the empty halls. "Show your filthy face!"

There was no reply.

"What have you done?  Where's my sister?"

 There was a high, squealing laugh; the sound was inhuman. Comet stood frozen where she was, flushed in the face, livid, and horrified.

 So many horrible scenarios crowded at the edge of her mind, but she pushed them away.  Slowly, she turned, and started to make her way back the way she had come.  If that's the way this thing  wanted to play, she would rise to the occasion.  Murzim would be more than happy to meet it in its own court.

 She didn't get far, nearly bludgeoning her nose on a closed door, a door that had most definitely not been closed a few moments earlier.  A quick turn of the handle proved that it was also locked.  Without a second thought, Comet set down the lamp and slammed the door with her shoulder. It shuddered, but didn't budge. She took a step back and kicked the door as hard as she could, just below the handle, again and again.

Behind her there was a wail of surprise as  the paint began to splinter off the door.  As if in self defence, a lace of glowing webs spanned across its surface, forcing her to lay off the assault.  Then something dove at her.

 Comet didn't get a good look at what it was, it grabbed her from behind, dragging her out of the circle of lamplight by the neck.

She yelled out and thrashed, clawing at the thing that was pulling her down.  It was semisolid, her fingers sank into it almost as if the thing didn't exist, but somehow repelled at the same time.  There was a draining sensation, a terrible, sickening tiredness...

 She jabbed backwards with her elbows, twisting furiously. Her attacker warbled painfully as she struck something more solid, it's grip slipping as she jolted back into the light. Her weapon was out in an instant, and she rounded to face her attacker.

 The thing was an incoherent, glowing log of blue, thrashing around in the air a few inches off the ground.  It let out a long garble of discomfort, and stared her down with a pair of nasty black eyes, shrieking its displeasure. Comet ducked to the side as it lunged after her again, swatting at it with her sword. It dodged the blow with a hiss and literally vanished into nothing.

 More glowing things were popping up, fading in and out of her realm of vision as it pleased them.

 "Back off!" shouted Comet, trying to watch all of them at once, snatching the lamp and swinging it at them.  They hung back, wary of the light. Somewhere in the rafters, the same chittery laugh rang again.  Somebody was having fun with this.

 The spits of light around her seemed to take courage at the sound.  One, and then another dove forward, slashing and grabbing at her as they came.  Comet twisted out of the way of one only to slam into another.  She again felt that sickly, draining sensation, and recoiled.  Thankfully, the creature seemed as shocked at the impact as she was, though it recovered much quicker, diving after her as she flinched away.

 Comet stabbed the thing.

 It let out a squealing howl as the ionized blade passed through it, launching backwards as if it had been electrocuted.  It spun plaintively in the air for a moment, eyes glassy, mouth agape, before its directionless drift sent it gently through a wall.

 The other creatures were blank horrified.  They dove in every direction, scrabbling away from her.  Comet played her advantage, letting out a battle shriek which gave the phantoms a run for their money, and slashing at the slowest.  She managed to hit two more, both of which went into the same state of shock as the first, before jerking away in a crippled fashion, or simply fading from sight entirely.

 There was another outraged chitter from the ceiling, though it sounded a little less sure of itself this time.  Comet didn't pay it any attention.  She would have preferred it come down from there, so she could give it a proper piece of her mind, but if it wasn't going to, fine by her.  She rounded on the locked door.  The web was grey and lifeless, it's venomous blue aura gone.  Comet took a chance and slashed at it; it gave way like paper, two angry black scorches running through the length of the wood beneath.  One more good kick and the door gave way, flying open into the opposite wall.

 Comet plunged though without even looking back.

 The boo in the rafters gawked after her, suspended motionless in a pure state of shock.  He couldn't believe what he had just seen.

    The king was not going to like this.     

• • •

 Somewhere below, Mario was starting to regain consciousness.

 He was slumped against something uneven, his arms seemed to be stuck over his head somehow. His head was a mess; throbbing bouts of pain passed through it in waves, aching down his neck and into his back.

 He grimaced, opening his eyes slowly. Purple tadpoles of light swam across his view, everything beyond was black. A thick wad of nausea was imbedded deep in his stomach.

What was going on? Why was he...

 Mario scrambled to his feet, stumbling back into the stone wall behind him. The clatter of metal echoed deafeningly through the little chamber, sending fresh jolts of pain though his skull. He ignored it, staring around him blindly, but the flecks of light--residue of the spell he had been hit with, probably--were preventing his night vision from kicking in.

 Even without his eyes he had a good idea what kind of situation he was in.  He smelled damp, everything he touched was hard, bare stone, something metal was biting into his wrists. It was plenty of information to go on. Mario yanked against his bindings, bringing on a fresh crescendo of clatters. He didn't get far; the shackles were embedded in the stones behind him. Terrific.

 He leaned against the wall again, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes, willing the remnants of the boo's magic to dissipate. It didn't do much good.

His head ached.

 A deep rasping laugh filled the cell, and he scrambled up again as an incoherent blob of white drifted into his view. Mario squinted at it, trying to discern the features as it approached, though he knew full well who it was. King Boo took one look at the man in front of him and laughed again. The chains had been meant for someone taller, even now that he was standing his arms couldn't quite rest at his sides. Mario's expression hardened as he waited for the boo to get over its fun; he wasn't about to give his captor the satisfaction of reacting. Mentally, he prepared himself for the gloating he was so obviously about to endure.

 "I must thank you for your cooperation; you've saved us a good deal of trouble," said the boo, grin widening. "I was rather surprised by your appearance. You weren't expected until much later. Of course, you've probably figured out already all of this was meant for your brother."

 Mario didn't react, didn't even blink. Though his eyebrows did drop the slightest bit. The thought had crossed his mind.

 The king kept on, seemingly paying this reaction no attention.

 "Of course, once in possession of him, you wouldn't be far behind. You would have thrown yourself at us headlong for his sake.   But I must say, I prefer the way things have turned out."

 Mario didn't answer; he didn't look away, just stood there staring down the monarch with a stoney expression. King Boo was impressed. Very few mortals he had encountered could hold up such a show of calm in a situation like this. He had definitely brushed a few nerves through their 'conversation,' nerves he had every intention of exploiting later, but for now he was wasting his time.    

 He chuckled to himself. "Very well, as you will. I must take my leave now. I have a few preparations to oversee." he waved an arm, and the torches on the walls ignited, lighting the room in a spectrum of soft purples and blues. "That should keep you fairly protected against the other inhabitants of the mansion. Though do yell if one of them manages to slip past."

 With that the king departed, leaving his prisoner to dwell on what he may.

 

* * *

 

Notes:

This chapter gave me a lot of trouble.

Pegging down Comet and Novi's personalities was a challenge for one. I know those two fairly well by now, they've been in my character tool box for years, but knowing somebody, and writing for them are two totally different animals. Trying to convey all those subtle nuances, the way they behave and think, it's a pain in the neck sometimes, let me tell you.

 

And then there's King Boo's attempt at an evil villain rant, the one Mario was having none of. Trading that fine line between tension and drama is it's own can of worms. 

 

But figuring all that out was the reason for staring this mess, and I think I did decently in the end.

 

 

 


	4. The Key Keeper

__

     Novi sprinted down the halls, breathing hard and reasonably dissatisfied.

 

   Her sister’s steps pounded ahead of her, always a turn or two away.

   “Wai- wait up!” called Novi.

   Why didn’t she stop? 

   “This way!” shouted Comet, just as Novi passed another doorway. She skidded and turned back.

   “You have to stop!” she shouted “Stop!”

   There was no response, just the sound of boots on stone.

 

    Novi whipped around the frame and yelled as her next step hit air. She panicked, throwing herself back, trying to break the forward momentum. Her foot hit ground again and slipped, sending her sliding down the next three steps of a long, stone staircase.

 

   She sat there for a moment, catching her breath, peering down at the place she had so nearly fallen. The stairs were steep and uneven. She could just make out the passage continuing beyond, fading off into perfect darkness.

 

   This was wrong. 

 

   Whatever was down there hadn’t stopped; the steps were continuing on without her, gradually falling off into an echo. A wave of doubt surged to the front of Novi’s mind. Comet could be a brick head sometimes, but not like this.

 

   Slowly, silently, Novi began to back away.

 

   As soon as she had the doorway between her and the stairs, she broke into a brisk walk, heading back the way she had come. She dove up the first set of stairs she found, putting as much distance between her and that stone passage as possible. There were no signs that her absence had been noticed, so she increased her pace, gradually working her way to a sprint.

 

   Novi kept her eyes forward, one hand strangling her weapon, the other gripping her bit of fire as if it were trying to escape. The flames plucked in the wind, creeping down her hand as they outgrew her white knuckled fist. She gasped as they reached her sleeve, the flames changing from soft white to orange as the fabric caught. In an instant she had released the blaze, dissipating as much as was still under her control, beating out the rest with the other hand before they could do much damage.

 

   And there she stood, breathing hard in the middle of the hall, eyes straining through the dim light of the candles. She had no idea where she was.

 

   Novi took a deep breath and a long blink. Everything was quiet, quiet enough for her to hear the blood rushing in her ears. There was no danger here, at least not at this moment. She was fine. She needed to calm down, to think.

 

   When she felt reasonably in control again she rekindled a small light, drowning the orange of the surrounding candles.

 

   The floors were wood again, accented by a gnarled green carpet; she was in the servants’ hall again, or so it would seem. That was good, she was going the right direction at least. Novi began to move, holding her pace to a determined walk.   

 

   Time wore on.

 

   How much time exactly was impossible to tell, but it was more than enough for Novi’s taste. Something recognizable should have turned up by now, the kitchen, the parlor, the open roofed foyer, but that hadn’t happened. What if she was wandering around in circles? There was definitely no good way to tell otherwise. The halls stretched on and on, hardly a feature to distinguish one corridor from the next. Novi sorely wished she had paid attention to direction while rushing off after ‘her sister’.

 

   Another problem had presented itself as well, or, an old problem had re-presented itself: the chittering was back.

 

   At first it had been infrequent, a random chirp now and then, now it was semi-constant, simpering off the walls wherever she went. That was what broke the rule of never looking over her shoulder. She had started doing it almost constantly after that, tracking the sound as best she could.That’s how she had finally got a glimpse of the thing.

 

   It hadn’t stayed visible for long at first; as soon as the thing realized it had been seen it vanished with something awfully close to a snicker. It looked like a tube sock with arms and a face, so far from what she had envisioned it was almost disappointing. It would have been cute in a weird way, if it wasn’t for the mouth full of oversized teeth.

 

   Since then, spotting the thing had become almost a game. The whole situation would have been a lot more concerning if it weren't for the creature’s obvious aversion to light. Visible or not, it never got too close, preferring to trail behind at what it considered a safe distance. Even so, Novi kept one hand on her weapon, just in case.

 

   The creature’s appearance put forward an interesting question, though: what, or who had been leading her around?

 

   Novi was pretty sure at this point the thing behind her was not it; it just didn’t strike her as intelligent enough for something like that. It did seem to have some sense, but in the same way an animal had sense, definitely not capable of pulling off a complicated charade. So where was the imposter?

 

   She had the nagging feeling whatever it was wouldn’t give up on her that easily. She half expected something to come looming at her from around a corner, or crawling through one of the locked doors. That whole line of thought almost made her glad of the glowing sock, if only because it meant she wasn’t totally alone.

 

   The hall ended in another fork, and Novi stopped to consider her options. Peeling floral wallpaper stretched away in either direction, looking dank, dusty, and about the same as every other place she had been tonight. The feeling of going in circles hit her again, and hard. There had to be some way to guard against that, some way to know. Potentially blowing out the candles on the walls would work. Leaving a trail was risky though, especially given the circumstances.

 

   Absently, she realized the chittering had stopped.

 

   She gave a quick glance around the crossroads, looking for some telltale flicker, but there was nothing. It was disappointing in a way: to say that Novi enjoyed its company would be pushing it, but she was getting used to it, and generally rathered to know where it was than not. And if she was honest, the perfect silence was kind of unsettling.

 

   She took a deep breath: it was best to just move on. Now if only she could decide which path to take.

 

   Another, different sound yattered off the walls. Novi glanced up sharply, causing it to rise into an unnatural giggle. She grit her teeth, hand clamping around the hilt of her weapon.

 

   Something was solidifying in the center of the hall, floating at her in an uneven bob. It was the size and shape of a soccer ball and the consistency of a marshmallow, a wispy, crooked tail misting out behind. A pair of glass button eyes and a wide grin took up the majority of its front. It was… kind of cute.

 

   “Oh.” said Novi.

 

   The creature stopped mid drift, grin petering off at the edges. Apparently ‘oh’ wasn’t the reaction it had been playing for. The two of them just stayed there for a moment, things getting reasonably awkward.

 

   “What...what are you?” Novi asked finally, after a few moments of mutual staring.

 

   Again the creature looked taken aback, eyes darted around the room as if looking for something else she could be addressing. Eventually it decided the question was meant for them, puffed itself up, and gave a gruesome smile.

   “I, am a boo.” It said with malicious pomp. 

 

   “Oh.”

 

   It had obviously meant to continue, but this repeated response shut it down rather quickly. It deflated back to its normal size with impressive speed, eyeing her with disgust.

 

   Novi shifted uncomfortably.

   “Is this your castle?”

   “Yes, you could say that, or at least, it’s our castle now,” It answered, grin reclaiming its face.

   “You were the one leading me around earlier, weren’t you?”

   “I could have been.”

 

   That was almost as good as a signed confession, at least as far as Novi was concerned. Her expression sharpened, though she forced her tone to remain level.    

   “How were you able to sound like my sister?”

   “I can sound like whatever I want to,” it answered in a bragging sort of way.

 

   That was reasonably concerning.

 

   Novi was quiet for a moment, trying to fit together the situation. It was obvious to her now that she and Comet were trespassing, at least in the eyes of this creature. Chances were everything that had happened so far was a result of it trying to get them to leave. She didn’t like this thing's persona or its shark-ish grin, but she couldn’t blame it for defending what it considered its home.

 

   “Do you know where my sister is?” she asked, in a well practiced unassuming tone.

   “Well, I couldn’t really say.” said the boo in equally rehearsed casualness.  

   “We didn’t know this placed belonged to anyone. Once I find my sister, we’ll leave.

 

   The boo apparently found this quite amusing, it began puffing itself up again, smile taking on a dangerous edge.

   “Oh, but it’s a little late for that now.”

   “I don’t think it is,” said Novi, still holding her calm.

 

   The boo looked put off again at this, disdain coming back with a vengeance. 

   “Are you dense or something-?” it began, but Novi didn’t give it the chance to finish.

   “No, I’m not. You just can’t stop us.”

 

   “Is that a threat?”

 

   Novi stepped back against the wall; in an instant her sword was out, leveled at the oncoming puff. The boo hissed, retreating away from the bright bit of steel. Novi’s face was determined and calm.

   “Yes, it was.” 

 

   The boo drifted from side to side, eyes darting between her and the narrow shaft of the blade. Novi waited for it to make a move.

   “I’ll take you to her.” it said finally.  

   Novi stared him down intensely. The boo squirmed where it floated, all of a sudden hit with the urge to cover its face.

   “I don’t trust you.” 

   “How exactly are you planning to find her then? You’ve been doing just grand on your own, let me tell you.”

 

   Novi didn’t answer to that, she was done here. She brushed past him down one of the offshooting halls. The boo floated there for a moment, face twisted in utter shock and disbelief, then darted after her.

 

   It tried to continue the conversation at first, alternating between exasperated reasoning and thinly veiled threats. Novi didn’t pay him any attention and eventually it shut up, but it didn’t go away. It hovered behind her, trailing along like some sort of exotic party balloon; Novi tried not to look at it too much, only stealing a discreet glance once and again to make sure it was respecting her personal space. It was pretty good about that for the most part, the fact that she was still holding her sword probably helped.

 

  If nothing else, the boo’s presence highlighted one thing: her strategy needed adjusting. She was pretty sure that she wasn’t going to find Comet in this place on her own, not in the position she was in. Her best bet now was to get out of here, find out where Murzim and Sasura had gone, and figure things out from there. What she needed now was another window.

 

   Novi started jiggling door handles at regular intervals, but as before, the majority of them were locked. The few that weren’t just opened on more halls almost identical to the one she was stuck in now. She considered breaking into a few of the chambers, like she had done to the front door, and she would have if it weren’t for her distempered companion. The last thing she wanted to do was make the thing desperate. Despite her earlier show, she wasn’t terribly keen on stabbing anything, not even a disgruntled semi-solid marshmallow, nor had she overlooked the comment about this being our mansion.

 

   Soon Novi hit another crossroad, an infuriatingly similar crossroad to the one she had already encountered. She stood there for a long moment, eyeing a particularly familiar tear in the wallpaper and starting to feel anxious again. Naturally, the boo chose this moment to pipe up.

   “If you want to find your sister go left, in case you’re interested.”

 

   Novi shot him a bitter, distrusting look. The boo pretended he didn’t notice, all of a sudden taking interest in an end table. She went right.

 

   The boo took up a new hobby after that: back seat driving. Whenever Novi came to any sort of turn, it had some sort of two cents to offer. She tried her best to ignore him, not taking into account his directions one way or another, but the longer they went on, the more harassed and driven she felt.

 

   Eventually, mercifully, she did hit something different; a short two steps, beyond which the carpet was faded red instead of green. Novi bounded up the stairs before the boo could give any input one way or another.

 

   Everything ‘servantly’ was gone here, replaced by delicate, cobweb-laced embellishments and regal wallpaper. Decorative vases lined the hall at regular intervals, and oil paintings accented the walls. It was a sure fire sign that she was going hopelessly the wrong way, but at this point, she would take it. The relief was short lived, though, as the path was quickly cut short by a dead end, or what was very nearly a dead end. There was a door at the end of the passage, a finer one than than any she had passed so far; what was more interesting, though, was the fact that it was ajar.

 

   Her companion fidgeted in the air some; Novi looked up at him sideways.

“Stop looking at me like that,” it barked, “You don’t want my input, so don’t look at me.”

 

   She considered what to do. The passage had branched in at least one place before this point; she could go back and try that. Then again, though, she had done nothing but try new passages up to this point.

 

   Carefully, she pushed open the door.

 

   The room beyond was long and rather low, with a grand table running almost the full length of it. Smaller, square tables were wedged in all the corners, ringed with what had once been more comfortable chairs. It reminded her of the counselor's chamber back home.

 

   “So are we going to get moving again or what?” the boo asked when she didn’t leave immediately.

   Novi looked up at him darkly. He stared right back, looking just as disgruntled. Novi had about had it with him in general, she was ready for him to pack off.

 

   Novi was more than willing to take his anciness as a sign this was not where he wanted to be. She entered the room, carefully dodged the remains of a fallen lamp, and headed for the table.The boo hovered around a bit, obviously confused, then went straight to mortified as she pulled out a chair and tossed her bag underneath.

 

   “Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?” it blurted as she slipped under the table herself.

   She didn’t grace him with an answer, just unzipped her bag and pulled out the emergency space blanket. The creature had no words; it just hovered in a semblance of rage, anxiety, and downright disbelief as she made herself comfortable.

 

   It floated there in denial for a bit, seeming to think she’d get bored and get up again, but she didn’t.

   “So you’re just going to stay there?” it screeched.

 

   Novi Just nodded.

 

 

 

• • •

 

 

   Mario leaned back against the wall of his cell with a grimace.

 

   He had given up trying to get comfortable, that was totally out of the question given the circumstances. So was getting out of here, much to his frustration. As soon as King Boo left he had started trying, and had gotten absolutely nowhere.

 

   The shackles on his wrists were solid; the only flaw in their surface was a miniscule key niche, if you could even call that a flaw. The chains themselves were embedded in the wall behind him, there weren’t even any brackets, just a chain disappearing into solid stone. How far it penetrated, there was no way of knowing; what he did know was that he had fiddled and strained with them until the bonds rawed his wrists, or at least his good wrist. The arm the boo had bit still wasn’t working right, neither was his leg.

 

   The next thing he had tried was fire. It had taken him quite a while to get his ability working at all. Maybe it was what the boos had done to him, or the restraints themselves (he was really starting to wonder at this point) but a blaze had been nearly impossible to muster. Even once he got one going, all he managed to do was braze the chain. There was no way he could produce the temperatures necessary to melt metal on a good day, let alone in his current state, at least not without a fire flower. Eventually he was forced to stop as the heat traveled up the links, threatening to scorch him right through his glove.

 

   Though, none of this was the reason he had stopped trying to escape.

 

   The king hadn’t been joking about ‘keeping the inhabitants of the mansion out; his attempts to free himself had drawn a small crowd. A pack of hazy shapes were pressing themselves around the cell. They were bright colored, dead eyed things, like ghosts out of a child’s drawing book. Under any other circumstances he would have been tempted to laugh at them; as things stood, though, he was a little preoccupied with the teeth. So far the king’s torch seemed to be doing its job. None of the creatures showed pluck enough to venture into its light, at least for now. If one of the blobs did decide to advance on him, Mario wasn’t sure what he would do. There wasn’t really much he could do with hardly a foot of maneuvering room.

 

  One thing was for certain, the more commotion he made, the more excited the creatures got. It was probably best to lie low for a while, tempt fate as little as possible. 

 

   He needed to think.

 

  There had to be a way out of this, there was always a way out. He was not going to sit here and play bait for his little brother, that just wasn’t happening. Mario had no idea when Luigi was going to arrive, but he had until then to deal with this situation.

 

  Bowser had his own set of rules; despite his faults the koopa king was fair, at least in his own eyes. In this circumstance, Mario could have at least expected him to give Luigi a fighting chance. He had gotten none of that feel from King Boo. More likely than not, he was waiting with another ambush, and the chances of Luigi getting out of that on his own were slimmer than Mario dared contemplate.

 

  But he wasn’t going to let that happen. He was going to escape and meet up with Luigi in the mansion, or find some way to warn him at very least.

 

  A slow, rhythmic rattle of keys drew Mario out of his contemplations; the set of blobs hanging around his cell went quiet, then scattered, vanishing through various walls. Here came his other problem.

 

  Something was patrolling the dungeon, looping past at regular intervals. It seemed similar to the others, made of the same semi-transparent stuff at least, but this one had a more human shape. It was also bigger. Much bigger.

 

  Mario listened as the jangle made its way up the hall. The thing drifted into view at its usual rhythmic pace, paying him no more attention than the rest of the times it had passed. Mario wished he had his hat to conceal where he was looking, the last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself, but he needed a better look at what he was up against.

 

  The thing looked for all the world like an old man, tall (at least by Mario’s standards) with frizzled hair and a craggy, bearded face. It had no legs, just a smoky blue ‘tail’ dragging behind. Despite its fluid movement, the ring of keys at its side jangled with what should have been every stride.

 

  It was a fat ring, stuffed to the brim. Most of the keys on it looked about as old as the specter who carried them, but there were a few that were new, gleaming dimly in the creature's soft blue glow. That was what Mario needed to get his hands on. The question was how to do that. Even if he did somehow lure it into the cell, Mario had no idea how he would handle the sentry in his current state. It was definitely worrying that the other specters gave this one such a wide berth.

 

  The sentry must have picked up on the fact that he was being observed; he dragged to a halt in front of Mario’s cell and turned to look at him, the textbook example of a neutral expression on its face. It was too late to pretend he hadn’t been staring, so Mario held his ground, returning the look in kind.

 

  “So you gave up then. ‘Suppose that’s well enough.

 

  Mario was taken aback, he hadn’t expected the thing to speak.

 

   If his surprise showed, the creature ignored it.

   “There’s been quite the stir here over you, or a’least I’m assuming that’s what it was over.”

 

   The sentry moved forward again, drifting right through the bars, and Mario’s insides heaved. It stopped not far away (well within the torchlight, much to Mario’s discomfort) and cocked its head, looking him up and down in a critical way.

 

   “Though you hardly look worth the trouble.” It finally judged.

 

    Despite everything, Mario was offended. He may have had it rough this time around, but he couldn’t look that bad. Then again to this fellow, all he seemed to be was a pummeled workman strung up against the wall...

 

   “I don’t plan to be here long.”

 

   “Oh, is that so?” the creature said, sparking up with a jollity Mario did not like. “I was getting the impression you’d be here a while, at least from your pulling earlier. Or maybe you’re referring to that boo having plans for you.”

 

   Mario ground his teeth. That was not what he needed to hear right now.

 

   The thing seemed to settle some, most of the spite draining from its expression.

   “This place has been nothing but plans since the professor disappeared,” it drabbled on, more to itself than anyone else. 

 

   “What professor?” asked Mario. 

   “The old professor. Master of the house.”

 

There was a loaded silence.

   “You seemed to have switched loyalties awful fast.”

 

   The sentry looked confused for a moment, then twitched with annoyance as he caught Mario’s drift.

   “Awful smart you must think yourself,” it growled. “What makes you say that, I wonder?”

 

Mario gave a meaningful glance at the key ring.

   “Ah. I see,” said the creature, looking down at the ring himself. “I suppose I respect your reasoning. I am your jailer now it would seem.”

  

   Mario pushed back his rising annoyance. If he was going to get out of this he needed to stay calm. His mask didn’t seem to matter though, as soon as the frustration spurred though his mind the creature gave one of its unnerving smiles

 

   “Are you on King Boo’s side or not?” asked Mario, opting frankness as his best option.

 

   The sentry genuinely considered this question. 

   “I’m on nobody's side,” it concluded finally.

 

   “Is King Boo on your side?” Mario persisted.

   “No... The king is on his own side, not mine.”

   “What about the professor?”

  

   A few rapid emotions flitted across the ghost’s face; he looked conflicted, agitated, then that slow smile bloomed again.

 

   “Whatever I may be, I’m not on your side.”

   With that it turned, drifting back towards the hall.

 

   Mario’s heart flopped. His only chance of getting out of here was floating out the door.

   “No, Stop!” he shouted.

 

   The ghost hesitated for a moment, suspended halfway across the cell. It sighed and turned to face him again.

 

   Mario scrambled for something to say, something to keep him there just a little longer, but nothing came to mind, at least nothing that wouldn’t risk offending him further. The sentry looked on silently, waiting for him to gather his thoughts. For a moment Mario could have sworn the ghost actually looked sorry for him.  

 

   Mario accepted the offer, taking a moment to compose himself.

   “What plans do the boos have for me?” He asked when he was sufficiently calm.

 

   The ghost shifted, looking uncomfortable for the first time.

   “I’m not rightly sure,” he admitted, “The boos never did go in for sharing their plans with the likes of us. I do know there’s someone that king is waiting for; so likely nothing much before he’s done with them.”

 

   Mario closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath; that was another thing he didn’t need to hear right now.

   “You know who he’s waiting for, don’t you?” the ghost asked after a few more moments of quiet.

 

   Mario hesitated, not sure if he should answer. Then again, if this thing didn’t know already, he would figure it out soon enough; there was no real point to the secrecy.  

   “My brother,” he said finally.

 

    “I see.”

 

   As the gap in conversation dragged on Mario began to worry the ghost would try to leave again. But he made no move in that direction, just floated quietly where he was, seeming lost in his own thoughts.

 

   Eventually he risked another question.

   “Who’s the professor you mentioned before?”

 

   The sentry looked suspicious again, though there was a pointed lack of spite this time round. 

   “The old man; master of the castle, or he was before the boos came.”

   “And he’s disappeared?”

 

   The old ghost nodded.

   “I haven't seen sign of him for months. No one else has either, as far as I can reckon.”

   “Do you have any idea what happened to him?”

   “No.”

   “Do you think King Boo did something to him?”

 

   The sentry hesitated for a moment.

   “I’m not certain. It’s a possibility. The professor is accustomed to leaving, and this wouldn’t be his longest absence, but the boos would kill him if they could.”

 

   Mario was confused. Ghosts couldn’t kill ghosts could they?

   “Is the professor,”--Mario hesitated here, realizing he could be brushing a sensitive subject--“Is he like you?”

   The ghost cocked his head again.

   “He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re asking. At least he wasn’t when I saw him last.”

 

   That was all Mario needed to hear.

   “I can help him.”

 

   The ghost looked incredulous.

   “What?”

 

   “If you help me,” said Mario slowly and carefully, “I can help the professor. I’ll find him, get rid of the boos.” 

   “What makes you think you’ll do a scrap of difference against King Boo?”

   “I’ve dealt with plenty of boos before. It wouldn’t be my first time navigating a haunted castle either.”

 

   The sentry glanced at the chains.

   “Doesn’t seem to have done you a lot of good.”

   “I’m expecting him this time, he won’t catch me the same way twice.”

 

   The ghost was quiet for a while. Mario would have given almost anything to know what was going through his head.

 

   Eventually he sighed again.

   “I suppose it can’t hurt to let you try.” 

 

   Mario’s heart began to pound as the ghost produced his key ring and began dipping through it. Eventually he produced a miniscule silver key and began unlocking the chains.

 

   The relief Mario felt as they fell away was impossible to describe. He clenched and unclenched his hands, rubbed his damaged shoulder, and went to adjust his hat. There was no hat. He had forgotten about that… 

 

   The ghost watched him in silence.

   “Thank you,” Mario said.

   He nodded, then looked grave.

   “I would appreciate it if this didn’t lead back to me.”  

 

   Mario understood the concern, he started to reply but stopped short as the key ring dropped to the floor. Before he could say anything more the key keeper had drifted through the far wall.

 

 

 

• • •

 

   Gameboo streaked down another hall, heading in the general direction of the king.

 

   He had been trying to reach him ever since he had left the human. His orders had been to ‘deal’ with her, preferably bring her to the king. He’d done everything he could think of to complete his orders: tricks, manipulation, intimidation, he had even used some of the fake doors to keep her trapped in the halls, but none of it had worked. Now she was parked under a table in the council room, and she intended to stay there until she rot.

 

   It was hardly a preferable report to deliver.

 

   He had intended this to be a quick trip, find the king, report the problem, and get back to his charge before she did anything else stupid. Unfortunately, he had never gotten passed finding the king. The first boos Gameboo had met said his majesty was in the dungeon; he had arrived there only to be sent in the direction of the treasure room by another pack. And that had only been the start: by this time he had been through the kitchen, the lounge, and the front foyer. Now he was headed to the roof, though at this point he highly doubted it would be his final stop.

 

   Another problem with this whole situation was practically every group of boos he met had some extra information they wanted him to convey, and none of it was particularly good.

 

   Apparently some of the ‘portrait ghosts’ were becoming restless. Most of the useful ones had been locked away in paintings for years; being assigned to certain rooms wasn’t much better as far as they were concerned. Some were suspicious, some were just plain looney, and most all of them expected no less than full run of the mansion. The king wouldn’t hear of it, and because of the loyalty issues in that quarter, precious few of the ghouls knew why.

 

   On top of that, Gameboo wasn’t the only one having trouble with his human, and apparently the other one was worse. She was on a rampage, smashing doors, chasing ghosts, and generally being as much trouble as she possibly could. It was only a matter of time before she burst in on that horrifying butler or something worse. How that situation would go was anyone’s guess.  

 

   At least that bit made him seem less inept. Sure, he hadn’t been able to steer his human like he had hoped, but at least he had stayed more or less in control of the situation, even when she had pulled out that glowing needle of hers. The effect would have been better, though, if he wasn’t the one delivering all of this. 

 

   The duration of this contemplation carried Gameboo all the way to the second dance hall. The roof terrace was only a few floors above this, a straight shot for someone like himself. He prepared for the upward launch, allowing himself a snicker at all the creatures confined by walls, but it choked off at the sound of a massive snore behind him.

 

    He froze, then turned, all of a sudden very glad he was invisible.

 

   Two massive shadows were sprawled across the floor. He could hardly see them, but if Gameboo listened, he could just hear the soft rise and fall of their breath. Sorry strips of light were leaking in from windows, highlighting scales and massive claws. Slowly, one of the masses shifted, there was the noise of sandpaper on tile and a deep-throated snore.

 

   The boo didn’t wait around any longer. He rocketed upward, plunging through the layers of floor between him and the roof.

 

   Mercifully, the king was there. He was hovering over the edge of the roof, sheets of clouds billowing from him; filling the wind-tattered patches in the sky and bringing on a fresh downpour of rain. Gameboo floated uncertainty behind him, afraid to disturb, but he didn’t have to wait long.

 

   “Ah, Gameboo,” he said, slowly turning to face him. Gameboo hesitated, the weight of all he had to tell tumbling down around his head.

   “Come now, no need to be afraid,” said the king dismissively, “there’s very little that could foul my mood tonight.”

 

   Gameboo opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a wail from the stairs.

 

   “Sire! The prisoner is escaping!”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Notes:

This chapter was a pain in the butt.  
Writing tension has never been my strong suit, and tense dialogue is even worse. Between Mario and Novi's predicaments, that was basically all this chapter was. It was like pulling hair getting this to sound half decent.

I did enjoy working with the Key Keeper though.  
Originally he was supposed to be pretty sinister, but the more I got him talking, the more I figured out that wasn't going to work. I'm not sure how it'll happen, but I hope he turns up again.


	5. Enter Player Two

 

  The mansion was in chaos.

  Mario was loose, a pair of beasts had taken up residence in the south wing; the human called Comet was rampaging around the halls, making herself a living terror to the lesser ghosts and the other girl had set up some sort of fortress in the council room and utterly refused to move.

  Naturally, that was about when the final guest arrived, and he had the distinct honor of being the first to use the front door.

  Luigi banged for quite a while before realizing the place was unlocked, then proceeded to slip inside as quietly as possible, hoping no one had heard.  The foyer was much warmer than the woods had been, and for the first few minutes he was more than happy to drip, shiver, and press as much water as possible out of his hat.

  Once he was to some degree defrosted, he took a cautious step forward.  

  The place was a high-ceilinged, two story chamber with a massive bowed staircase sweeping down gracefully to either side of the room.  It was so big, the beam of his flashlight got lost in the corners.

  Slowly, the fact that he was indeed standing in the advertised mansion sunk in.  The place did exist, and he had been proven squarely wrong.  Mario was here already, it would seem, and had made himself right at home given the lit candles.  He was probably having a ball right now with so much to explore.

  Luigi wondered how far he had gotten.  As fascinating as this place was, he didn’t fancy the idea of trying to track Mario down in it.  With luck, he wouldn’t have to.  Mario knew he was following after all; he would probably loop back to the door eventually to meet up.  Luigi could wait until then.  He wasn’t exactly in a hurry to explore, dripping as he was.

  At least, that’s what he told himself.  Despite this, it wasn't long before he engaged in his own bit of poking around, taking the place in as best he could through the narrow shaft of his flashlight.  The beam was hardly flattering to the old place, revealing in patches the carved banisters and fading Victorian furniture.  Dust hung in the air, suspended in glittering, idle drifts.  The candles weren’t doing a terrible lot of good either; they were trying but most of their glow was lost in the expanse of the place.  What he could see was promising, though: solid architecture, charming classic style.  It was very old, but it was nice.

  He found himself inadvertently counting the coins it would cost to get it habitable again.  Excusing the half inch of dust over everything, the interior actually seemed pretty solid.  It was the outside that was the real problem; from the little Luigi had seen, that was going to need a ton of work.  Even if he did all the repairs himself the cost of replacing the windows alone would break the bank, to say nothing of repairing the roof.  He had no idea what he was going to do with this place.  There was still a chance this was a joke, but then again, the fact that the place existed at all left him inclined to believe anything.

  As Luigi made his way deeper into the chamber he found another source of interest: there seemed to be a third light source hidden away in the far back of the room.  His first thought was that it was Mario, and he stepped toward it with an excited smile, but his expression turned to confused curiosity when he got a better look.  It was a wide swath of blue, totally the wrong shape for a flashlight.  Was it a lamp maybe?  Luigi continued forward to investigate.

  Whatever the source of the light, it was tucked in a little chamber below the stairs.  Three doors filled the cavity: the first two led underneath the stairs themselves, probably belonging to a pair of closets, the other was nested neatly in the middle.  That one was much more elegant than the others, a double door engraved with a twisting pattern of hearts.  The effect was ruined, though, by a nasty tangle of webbing slicked across its surface.  That was where the light was coming from.

  Luigi pulled a face, gingerly stepping away from the stuff.  He had no idea what it was, and his gut told him he didn’t want to find out.  He retreated back into the middle of the room.

  There were a few more doors leading off the ground floor, and from what he could see, at least three others on the upper level.  Luigi wondered which one of these Mario had taken.  The itch to explore properly was gaining some serious tug, but Luigi still didn’t feel inclined to go waltzing around on his own, especially after that webbing.  This place had been empty for a long time, that was obvious, and you never knew what would turn up in spots like this; it was the Mushroom Kingdom after all.  He pushed that thought away before it could spoil his mood.

  “Mario!” he shouted.  The call rang through the room, bouncing off the hardwood walls.  Luigi had a feeling it hadn’t traveled very far.  He tried a few more times, but there was no response. At least, no human response.  

  Luigi’s last shout died in his throat.  Something had squealed at him from the ceiling.  He took a quick step backward and swung his light up just in time to see a fluttery black shape disappear between the rafters.

  He added pest control to his list of expenses.    

  As it turned out, bats and rafters weren’t the only things to see up there.  Embedded in the ceiling was a large, expensive looking chandelier, twisted gold frame glinting through a mask of cobwebs.  Luigi craned his neck and stared, but it wasn’t the aesthetics that had caught his attention.  The thing looked like it had bulbs screwed into it, honest to goodness electric light bulbs.  If he looked hard enough, he could almost swear he saw a yellow wire snaking away from the thing, plastered against the far off ceiling.

  Of course, now Luigi had to look for a switch.

  It didn’t take long to find. The thing was big and bulky, with an industrial plastic casing, generally looking like it belonged in a warehouse rather than here.  He went to flip it but snatched his hand away as he saw the exposed wires.  They spewed from the casing and snaked up the wall, tacked into place by what looked to be garden staples.  Luigi glowered at them, the display offended him on a personal level, but the wires themselves looked to be intact. Once he was sure he wasn’t going to be electrocuted, he flipped the switch.  

  Nothing happened.

  He gave the thing a few more toggles, just for good measure, then left it in the off position.  This place really was going to need a lot of work.

  Curiosity with the light satisfied, Luigi went back to solving his Mario problem.

  Beginning with the lower levels, he started trying doors, but with the exception of the two under the stairs--which did turn out to be closets--they were all locked.  He made his way up the stairs next only to find the first door there locked as well.  Luigi stepped back, rather confused. What kind of person left the front door open but locked the rest?  Then again, Mario wasn’t in the front room anymore, so something must be open somewhere.

  As if on cue, there was a clatter and a bang. Luigi looked up sharply, maybe a little too sharply for his dignity; it had come from the next room, behind another set of double doors.

  “Mario?” he called again, but there was no answer.  It sounded like he had banged his shins on something.  Luigi hurried to the next door and tried the handle. It was tight, but it wasn’t locked.

  The room beyond was very dark.  A sweep of the flashlight revealed several glass-fronted shelves, a few chairs, a table, and a long, dark cabinet claiming most of one wall.  No one was there.

  Luigi stepped into the room cautiously. Even if it wasn’t Mario, he was sure he had heard something.  But nothing moved, and the silence was perfect.  There was another door pressed against the back wall, this one slightly ajar; maybe the sound had come from further in.  If that was the case, it must have been much louder than Luigi had originally thought.  He hoped Mario hadn’t knocked over a bookcase or something.

  He sighed and began to pick his way to the new door, careful not to disturb any of the furniture himself, but froze as a scuffling broke out near the cabinet.  He rounded on it sharply, bathing the spot in musty yellow.  There was nothing there.

  Luigi didn’t take his eyes off the spot.  There was definitely something in here; he had heard it.  He traced the floor, the shelves, the cabinet, looking for any sign of the thing, but the furniture was flush with the floor, not so much as a crack for something to hide under, and except for a few odd candles, the top of the cabinet was bare.

  His eyes lingered over the candles more than anything else, a slow feeling of unease unfolding in his chest.  Mario’s fire was always red, it burned red (or at least orange) even after it left his control.  All the candles he had seen up until now were passably that color, these were not.  There were six of them arranged across the cabinet, framing the painting of a rather unpleasant looking man, bathing the edges of the frame in a pale, brusey purple.  Luigi had the feeling he should know something about candles like that.  He backed away slowly, eyes flicking between the two doors, unsure whether to go back or press forward.

  And then he froze.  He knew where he had seen flames like that before. Quickly, quietly, Luigi made for the Foyer.  He didn’t get far.

  A low, tremulous whine filled the room.  Luigi rounded to face it, still backing away, hand beating at the air as he felt for the door.  The sound rose and fell excitedly, then jumped to a shriek at his elbow.  Luigi yelled right back, juggling his flashlight and jumping sideways into a shelf.  There was a deafening crash and a high giggle; the room was suddenly filled with orange as the creature morphed into the visible plane.  It laughed again and lunged.

  Luigi dropped low, dodged under the thing and scrambled away, only for two more of the creatures to materialize almost on top of him.  He shied away from these as well, or at least he tried.  Something tangled under his feet and he fell, yelping as his head smacked hard against the table.  He lay crumpled for a moment, the world spinning around him.  He could hear the creatures cackling above him somewhere and he flailed only to find himself tangled in the legs of the table.  The creatures squealed with delight at his predicament, coming at him from three different ways.  All Luigi could see of them were fuzzed orange shapes as they closed in. He tried to stand, throwing an arm up to protect his face, panic coursing through his system.   

  A light blasted from the doorway behind him.  The ghosts recoiled, squealing in fury.  Two of them dropped out of sight, vanishing as quickly as they had come, but the third stayed frozen, hanging in the air in a stupor.

  Luigi used the distraction to disentangle himself from the table, grab his fallen hat, and jump again to his feet, one hand clamped over his bashed head.  

  There was a click followed by an incessant whir. The ghost began to draw towards the light.  It was obviously not fond of the idea; as soon as it began to move it started to squall again, bucking and thrashing violently in the air.  With one last tremendous heave it seemed to break its attackers stance, flying away in the other direction.  The light dipped into the floor and something, or someone, skidded across the room, apparently being dragged.  There was a pop as whatever connection was happening broke.  The thing on the floor yelped and came to a rolling stop; the ghost gave one last ferocious hiss and vanish into the dark of the room.

  Luigi picked up his flashlight in the same hand as his hat and walked quickly towards the lump on the floor, pinning it with the beam.  He was reasonably surprised to find a tiny, mostly bald old man tangled in a hose.

  “Whoa, easy there lad!” he said, squinting through an immensely oversized pair of glasses.

  “Sorry,” said Luigi, lowering the light. “Are you - are you all right?”

  He went to offer his hand but hesitated when he saw the specks of red on the glove.

  “I’m alright young fela, don’t worry yourself over me,”--The man adjusted his glasses and took Luigi’s hand--“Truth be told, I’m more worried about you.  That was quite the spill you had there.”

  Oh.  He had seen that.

  “It was nothing- I’ll be fine,” said Luigi.

  The man first looked at his glove, then at him.

  “If you say so, but mark me, you’ll have a lump the size of an egg before too long.”

  

  Luigi didn’t doubt that one bit.

  The man pulled himself the rest of the way up, brushed off the front of his coat, and started to deal with the hose, unkinking it with a well practiced hand.  Now that he was standing, Luigi could see he had a contraption strapped to his back: some sort of sleek, red case.

  “You’re lucky I came along when I did, this place is bursting at the seams with ghosts these days,” the man gabbed. “My name’s E. Gadd by the way. Professor E. Gadd.”

  Luigi gave a shaky nod, a little preoccupied with the first half of the statement, and hacked out a thanks.

  “Not to be mentioned,” The professor said, snapping the last bits onto his machine. “Now follow me sharpish; it’s no good to be standing around in here.”

As if in response, there was a snarl from the other side of the room.  Luigi whipped around to see four more ghosts wobbling towards them.  He jammed his hat on his head and stepped back, teeth grit.  

  “Well that doesn’t look good,” said the professor in a tone Luigi found far too casual.  He made a bolt for the foyer with speed that was rather surprising given his age.

“Don’t just stand there, look alive!” he called back.  Luigi didn’t have to be called twice.

• • •

  Mario ran down the corridors, a pack of ghosts on his heels.

  Well, ‘run’ was a strong word, more like aggressively hobbled.  The boo venom had worn off some, not enough to be helpful but just enough for the numbing effect to disappear.  He hurt like nobody's business.

  For all intents and purposes he probably shouldn’t be walking at all, but that wasn’t an option given the circumstances.

  Mario’s concerns about the creatures outside his cell had been totally justified.  They were hunting him in packs now, bleeding from the woodworks, cropping up in every corner and dark shadow.  For every group he lost there was another to take its place.  He hadn’t expected much else, frankly, but it was still a confounded nuisance.  

  Mario ducked around another passage and planted himself against the wall, catching a bit of breath.  This whole situation was less than ideal.  He wanted to sit down and rest properly, but judging by the yowls and shrieks from every direction that was a bad idea.  He had to find some way to lose these things.

  There was an excited squeal, and something purple flashed inches in front of his nose.  Mario dodged a punch, gave the thing a face full of fire, and started to run again.

  That was one mercy at least.  Those cuffs had definitely been countering his firebrand; the ability had started working again within minutes of having them off.  Granted, he was still far from full strength, but at least it wasn't like trying to start a blaze with wet wood.  It was good to have it back, especially considering his flashlight was long gone.  If the only thing he had had to see by were the dinky candles on the walls he would have been in more trouble than he already was.

  It was also useful for keeping the ghosts at bay, which was more than any physical attack could boast.  These things were like boos: you could pound on them all day without doing any real damage.  No matter what you hit them with they’d just bounce away like so much floating jelly, and the dark only made them that much more resilient.

  Fire, on the other hand, definitely made them think twice.

  Mario darted around another corner, up a flight of stairs, and narrowly dodged a snatch from a ghost hanging from the ceiling.  Slowly but surely the aesthetic of the building was changing.  Clammy, wet stone gave out to dry, livable halls; before long he was maneuvering a tattered wallpaper landscape, with wood floors and a moth eaten carpet.  

  Mario kept his eyes peeled for the slightest bit of color or movement. He didn’t understand how the boos hadn’t found him yet with all the racket the other ghosts were making.  Maybe they already had and he just didn't know it yet.  The thought wasn’t a comfortable one.  If the boos caught up with him now what would ensue could hardly be classified as a fight; not in his current state.

  He did have one advantage to his name, however: the keys.

  As it turned out, the Key Keeper's parting gift held more than just the keys to the dungeon.  That was Mario’s lucky ticket, something none of the boos would suspect.  If this place was anything like Peach's castle he should be able to get around just fine by navigating the chambers.  Why would the boos search rooms they thought he couldn’t access?  It should allow him to dodge their initial sweep at least.

  The plan was far from foolproof: one stray boo and the whole thing would go up in smoke, but it should buy him a bit more time, and he was willing to take anything at this point.  The only problem was he had no idea which keys belonged to which doors, and there wasn’t a lot of time for trial and error with his ‘fan club’ at his heels.

  But the calls of the mansion ghosts did seem to be falling farther behind. He didn’t know how or why, but he was willing to bet the situation wouldn’t last long.  He needed to make some decisions, and make them quickly.

  He slowed, glancing either direction down the hall.  It stretched away empty; he had a few seconds at least.  It was now or never.

  Mario picked a door at random and jacked on the handle.  It was locked.  He dowsed his fire and dropped to one knee, fishing the key ring out of his pocket.

  The thing was fatter than he remembered it being.  It probably held close to a hundred keys of all shapes, sizes, and ages.  There was no way he was going to be able to try every single one on every single door he came across.  There did seem to be some sort of order to them, though, keys with like embellishment lumped together.  The trim of the doors in this corridor all had the same etching, an etching that was passably engraved on one of the sets.  That broke the number of first choices down to about fifteen.  It gave him somewhere to start at least.

  Mario thumbed to the front of the set and took the first key.  His aim faltered twice, scratching the face of the keyhole before he finally got the it in, but the lock refused to turn.

  He continued like that for a while, key after key.  A whole pack of ghosts was going to appear at his back any second; he just knew it.  He could hear them through the floors, mixing with the harsh clatter of the lock at every failed attempt.  He didn’t have time for this.

  Just when he was about to start moving again something gave.  The eleventh key slid into place perfectly, and the mechanism turned with a crack.  Mario breathed a sigh of relief, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him.

  The room beyond was a dining room of sorts, or maybe a tea room.  Large, ornate windows covered the back wall. Rain ran down the panes, distorting the bit of blue light filtering in from outside.  The dappled pattern on the wallpaper complemented the effect: the whole room looked like it was dripping.

  Mario’s eyes adjusted quickly, absorbing whatever light the windows had to offer.  He didn’t let his guard down, still expecting the mansion ghosts to crop up at any moment, but there was nothing.  Except for the trickling of rain from outside, all was quiet.

  All was very quiet.

  He stood stock still, eyebrows knit, listening.  Not half a minute ago he could hear ghosts chattering below the floors.  Now they were gone.  It didn’t make any sense.

  Mario brushed it aside. He had no idea what had happened to the ghosts, and frankly, he didn’t care for their sudden disappearance, but at this very moment he had a lull, a lull he fully intended to take advantage of.

  The first order of business was to deal with his injuries.

  He swept the space, looking for anything that would be of use.  There were several tables in the room, some scattered with dishes, others draped over with cloth.  He made his way to one of the latter and inspected the fabric.  It was white and felt like cotton; there was dust on the upward facing side, but that was to be expected.  Like everything about this situation it wasn’t ideal, Dr. Toadly would probably kill him if he ever found out about this, but it was what he had, and it would have to do.

  Mario pounded on the edge of the cloth, sending a shower of dust into the air, then gripped the corner and tore, pulling away a long, jagged strip.  He didn’t need a bandage so much as a brace; he took a deep breath and began wrapping the strip tightly around his leg, right over his overalls. It was about as uncomfortable as he was expecting it to be.  Before he had even finished the bind a dark spot had seeped through the white.  Mario swore he would never leave home without some kind of mushroom again then started on his shoulder.

  When he was finished he stepped forward, trying his handiwork.  It still hurt, but it was workable.  At least it could hold pressure without collapsing now.  That taken care of, Mario moved to the next problem: how to move forward.

  One thing and one thing only mattered right now: finding Luigi, preferably before he entered this place at all. Once they met up he could proceed with his promise--find the professor and kick the purple stuffing out of the boos--but not before.

  They could take this place between the two of them, Mario was sure of it, and with a bit of luck Luigi may have brought a few items with him too, he almost always did.  But for any of that to work, Mario needed to get back to the entrance, and he hadn’t the slightest idea where that was. 

  He made his way to the windows hoping they would give him some sort of clue.

  He was higher up than he realized.  A thirty-foot drop onto a swamped courtyard met his view, the expanse of the building stretching around it on three sides.  The fourth side was even more impressive: it fell away to nothing, a white crested sea stretching away beyond.  This must be the back of the place then.

  Despite the height, Mario considered nipping out the window.  It was a long way down to be sure, but he could probably find a safe way to pull it off.  Walking around the outside of this place would almost definitely be faster than wheedling through a maze of halls and passages.  His heart sank a little as he considered being out in the rain again, but on the bright side there were probably fewer ghosts.

  He pressed himself against the glass, looking for a ledge below the window.  There was one but it was small, and probably slippery.  The awnings to either side looked just as treacherous: slanted, with water running over them in rivets.

  Mario sighed.  Wouldn’t that be the most ironic way to end this mess.  The great hero of the Mushroom Kingdom escapes the boos only to fall off a roof and break his neck.  The window was a bad idea.

  Something large moved below, coming around one of the far walls.  Instinctively Mario dropped. He let a few seconds pass, just to be safe, then slowly inched upward again, peering over the sill.

  A massive creature stood in the middle of the courtyard sticking its nose into the rain.  It was the size of Bowser or bigger, light scales defining it against the dark, wet grass.  A set of crests protruded from its head, sweeping back in a short, bowed curve, and a ridge of spines ran down either side of its thick neck and along its shoulders.  It stood there for a moment, testing the breeze, then spread its wings and jumped into the air, buffeting the building until the windows rattled as it rose out of sight.

  When he was sure it was gone, Mario got to his feet again.

  He had all but forgotten the creatures he had seen signs of out front.  Well, there one of them went, patrolling the outside of the mansion.  Mario couldn’t believe he had slipped by them; they could have been circling overhead like vultures the whole time and he never would have realized.  Or maybe they hadn’t missed him.  Maybe they were only there to keep him from getting away.  He winced at the thought, mind spinning on how he was going to deal with the situation.  Any way you sliced it, it was bad. Very bad.

  There was a rustle on the other side of the room.  Mario glanced around sharply, realizing how much time he had spent here.  He needed to get moving again.  Now.  With one final glance out of the window he turned, making for the left hand door.  

  It wasn’t locked.

  Mario felt an upwelling of all sorts of unpleasant emotions.  He jerked away, going for the right-hand door instead.  That one was unlocked too. They had found him. For one second he was crushed, cursing himself for stopping in the first place, then a thought struck him: maybe none of the chamber doors were locked. After all, why should they be? He closed his eyes for a moment, breathed out through his nose, and pushed forward into the next room.

  It was long, one wall entirely dedicated to windows and a broken glass door leading onto a balcony.  Mario couldn’t tell if there was another door on the other end of the room or not, the far wall was swallowed in inky blue.  There were a few toppled chairs and a covered mirror leaning against one wall, but other than that, the room was bare.

  Mario hung back, worry still clinging to him, then sprinted as best he was able, pelting for the far end of the chamber.  He made it about halfway there before something yattered.  His stomach lurched, then settled as three orange ghosts and a big fat green one jumped into view.  They weren’t boos, that was all he cared about.

   He didn’t stop, kindling fire in his hands as he ran, but it was unnecessary.  The ghosts hung frozen where they were, then darted away with a collective high-pitched hiss.  

  He hadn’t gotten anywhere near them.

  Mario skidded to a halt, confused. None of the ghosts had reacted like that before.  It had almost seemed like they were looking behind him...  He gave a quick glance over his shoulder, it was better to be safe than sorry, but of course there was nothing.

  It turned out there was a door on the other end of the hall. It opened easily.

• • •

  Luigi stood uncomfortably in a small room, a rough, musty towel draped over his shoulder and a melty bag of ice pressed to his head.

  “So your name’s Luigi?” said the professor from another room.

  Luigi started to nod then realized how useless it would be.  A response didn’t seem necessary, though, as the professor went right on talking.

“I thought it may be something starting with L; it’d be the only explanation for your hat. Unless you were a sports fan of course.”

  There was a clatter and the sound of a cabinet being hurriedly closed, then the professor appeared again, holding a small bottle of something.

  “Though I have to say, I feel like I’ve heard that name before someplace...”

  Luigi didn’t respond to that.  The professor had probably heard his name from the papers, and he didn’t exactly feel up to explaining all of that right now.

  Though he had to admit, something seemed odd about the professor to him as well, the strangest sense of deja vu.

  1. Gadd gave the vial a shake.  



  “Now, let’s take a look at that bump of yours.”

  Luigi hesitated for a moment then knelt down on the floor, gingerly removing his ice pack.  The professor plucked at his hair, and he winced.

  “Well you sure got a nice wallop,” The professor said. Luigi heard the vial unscrew, and a few burning drips trickled over the welt.  Slowly, the pain began to subside.

  “There we are. You’ll be right as rain in a minute.”

  The professor clipped around his side and put the bottle on a cluttered workbench.  Luigi glanced at the label in what he hoped was a discreet way.  ‘Mushroom Drops’ was scrawled across the front of it in hand printed letters.

  “Thank you,” he said, standing up again.

  “No need to thank me, lad. I’m just glad I was there,” the professor said, nodding enthusiastically. “A few more minutes and those ghosts would have been chewing on you.”

  Luigi shuddered.  

  “You do have me a might curious though, what were you doing there in the first place?”

  “I was supposed to be meeting my brother,” said Luigi.

  The professor scratched his head.

  “Well, I suppose that makes sense, but why that old place?”

  Luigi didn’t bother trying to explain, just produced the competition flyer.  E. Gadd took the paper and inspected it.

  He gave a low whistle.

  “Well, that certainly is a strange bit of work; that’d snag me at your age to be sure.  I can tell you for pretty certain, though, this isn’t on the up and up.  I sure didn’t make it.”

The little man’s forehead scrunched as he continued to look over the paper.

  “And you say your brother was supposed to meet you here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s hardly good news…”

  “Have you seen him?” asked Luigi “He left before me, he should have been here already.”  

  The professor didn’t answer the question, and Luigi wondered if he had heard; he just continued to turn over the paper as if it held some secret he needed to unlock.  Eventually, he glanced up at Luigi again.

  “Best sit down a bit, lad, you’re still not looking all that good.  I’ll make a bit of tea.”

  Luigi sighed as the old man disappeared into the next room again.  Not knowing what else to do, he moved himself to the aged sofa wedge in the corner.  Luigi felt every individual spring compress as he sat.

  “Why were you there? Is that your mansion?” he asked the empty room.

  “Well I suppose in a manner of speaking, though I couldn’t turn over the deed,” Came the answer from around the corner. “I’ve lived here for about twenty years on and off. That has to count for something.”

  “Why?” was all Luigi could muster.

  “Studying ghosts of course; that place is the perfect spot for them.  Though things have been a bit rowdy in there lately, I don’t mind saying.”

  Luigi was quiet at this.  A fresh wave of deja vu smacked into him. An old man who studied ghosts…  

  A wet, sputtery whistling escaped the next room, and a few moments later the professor returned, carrying a pair of mismatched mugs.  Luigi hardly noticed when the cup was pushed into his hand, he was too busy staring holes in the dirt floor.  The professor gave him a rather concerned look then took a seat on a little three legged stool.

  Then it hit him.

  “You’re the professor who works up on thwomp mountain!” Luigi blurted.

  1. Gadd started, his tea sloshing dangerously.



  “Well,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “I’m flattered. I didn’t think many people knew I was up there.  That’s more of a secondary situation, though. My best work by far is here.”

  There was a moment of silence.  Luigi caught a whiff of something odd and wondered if the professor had left something on in the kitchen.  He was on the verge of saying something when he realized it was the tea.  He discreetly cupped the top of his mug with his hands.  

  “When were you supposed to meet him?” Asked the professor.

  So he had heard.

  “Whenever I could.  He left an hour or so before I did, I think.”

  “...Does he wear red?”

  Luigi nodded, stomach tightening.

  The professor gave a long sigh.

  “I saw a fellow in red walking up to the mansion a while ago.  I was hoping it was you, and I was mistaken about the color.  I went after him right quick to try and head him off, that’s why I was in the mansion, but I never found him.”

  Luigi grit his teeth, sliding his cup onto a workbench.

  “Thank you for your help,” he said, standing up.

  “Whoa, hold on there, lad; where do you think you’re going?” Said the professor, jumping up as well.

  “I’m going after him.”

  “But you can’t just go traipsing in there, not on your own!”

  Of course the professor was right, and frankly, it was the last thing on earth Luigi wanted to do.

  “I’ll manage,” was all he said.

  The professor didn’t take that.  With another one of his quick movements, he placed himself in Luigi’s path.   Granted, Luigi could have probably stepped over him if he wanted to, but it was the gesture that counted.

  “Please lad, you’ve got to listen to me; you can’t just go bursting in there like that.  You won’t do yourself any good, or your brother either.”

  Luigi didn’t answer, but he didn’t move.  The pause seemed to be all the encouragement E.Gadd needed.  He made for the exit ladder and began digging through a pile at the base of it, eventually dragging the whole thing across the floor in Luigi’s direction.

  It was the pack he had been wearing in the mansion.

 

 

* * *

 

  
Notes:

Have you ever been planning ahead with a story, and realized certain characters weren't there? You play the scenes out in your head, only to find that parts of the cast have vanished into smoke, and no matter where you look, you can't seem to find them? Well that's been happening with Murzim.

For whatever reason, no matter what point I look at, Murzim is nowhere to be found. Sasura's there, she's going to get herself into all sorts of trouble, but never Murzim. He does turn up again at the very end (and I mean the very end, when people are sleeping this whole mess off) but that's it.

So the question is, where did he go?

The more I write, the more I find your subconscious knows more about storytelling than you ever will. When stuff like that starts turning up, instead of overriding it I try to figure out why and how it happens.

I've been doing that for the past few weeks, and have uncovered some fascinating results. It promises to be very interesting writing.


	6. Tables, Monsters, and Vacuums

_ _

Luigi wasn't sure what he had been expecting when the professor offered to help him. One thing was for sure though, it hadn't been this.

At first E.Gadd had put together a field kit. In addition to the device--which looked for all the world like some sort of vacuum cleaner--he had given him a set of emergency tools, the rest of the mushroom drops, a more powerful flashlight, and some sort of tablet called a 'gameboy horror'. Each of these items had been stashed in a storage compartment on the vacuum, and Luigi should have been ready to go.

How he had gone from that to being locked in the professor's cellar was something Luigi was still figuring out.

He took a calming breath, adjusting the deadweight on his back.  
It wasn't the space so much that bugged him. It looked like a half gutted utility room: hoses and wires tacked across the roof and an assortment of capped off storm drains lining the walls; nothing too out of the ordinary. He would have felt a lot better, though, if the place wasn't made of steel reinforced brick, and the only way out hadn't sealed like a vault behind him.

The things on the floor were also somewhat concerning. For all intents and purposes they were just more storm drains, almost identical to the ones on the walls. These were sealed differently though, capped off by what looked to be some sort of electric hatch.

It was cold down here.

There was a blare of sound from the vacuum, punching a hole through Luigi's anxious thoughts. Sure enough, it was the gameboy horror, a yellow light on top of it flashing in time with the obnoxious tune. He grabbed the thing from its niche and pressed the 'on' button; the screen sparked, the image crisped, and there was the professor.

"-ow are you doing there lad?" he asked, before the screen had fully settled. "Getting comfortable with your new gear?"

No, Luigi wasn't getting comfortable with his new gear. He felt like an idiot and was more than a little glad no one was here to see him. But he had adjusted the straps some, making the thing a bit less awkward on his back, so he nodded.  
"Good, good," said the professor, pressing buttons on something out of view.

"So, you use this thing to fight ghosts?" asked Luigi, a tad uncertanly.  
"That I do, it's the only way to take on a ghost in my mind. That machine's taken a lifetime to perfect; I wouldn't have been able to do the half of my research without it. I call it the"--he snickered a bit before he could continue--"I call it the Poltergust. The Poltergust 3000 to be precise."

Despite everything, Luigi smiled too. That was actually pretty good.

The professor nodded approvingly at his reaction and started pushing buttons again  
"Hang in there a moment, and I'll tell you how to work her," he said.

Luigi nodded again, then jumped violently as the lights snapped off. He scrambled for his flashlight, eyes darting violently around the pitch black room.  
"Hold on, hold your horses, that was me," said the professor quickly. "Don't worry, I won't pull anything on you until you're ready."

Luigi didn't answer. He had found his light by now and flicked it on, but every minute he spent in this darkness was making him more uneasy. If the professor wanted to wait until he was ready, he would be waiting a long time.

"Now, you see that hose?" continued the professor.  
Luigi fumbled at his side until he found it.  
"Yes."  
"That's the business end of things. You're going to need to get comfortable grabbing it, you'll be picking it up and putting it down a lot."

Luigi hooked the gameboy back into its niche and practiced the motion a few times.

"That's the stuff. Now, you're going to use the Poltergust in conjunction with the light: just give the ghosts a flash, then push the button on the hose to slirp em up."

Luigi felt out the button and nodded.  
"Ready," he added out loud, remembering the professor probably couldn't see him anymore.

As if in response, there was a grinding, clanging sound from the center of the room. A ring of light pulsed around one of the flood drains, and Luigi could have sworn he saw something dart out of it. Then it was all gone, and the room was quiet and dark.

"Get ready, here it comes!' said the professor.

Luigi grip the hose tighter, taking a few steps back towards the wall. There was a growl to his left, and he jumped away, pivoting his light as he turned. The growl changed to a squashed gragle; he got a brief glimpse of one of the orange things he had seen in the mansion, then it was gone.

His stomach turned over. He had his suspicions given how the room was built, but now it was confirmed: he was training against real ghosts.

Luigi suppressed the upwelling of fear in his system and tried to focus on his target. Even though he couldn't see the thing, he could hear it, yattering angrily to itself somewhere in a corner. Then all was quiet. Luigi grit his teeth and began shuffling backwards again, eyes raked the room. There was another snarl, and he whipped round to face it, swinging the flashlight like a mace. The squawk of discomfort rang out again, and the thing vanished, this time before he could see it at all.

"Well, you got the right idea," said the profesor. "But you've got to stun it long enough to get him with the Poltergust. Try turning off your light, don't flash 'em until you see the whites of their eyes. That always busts em."

Luigi flinched; was he serious? He hesitated a moment longer, then reluctantly followed the advice.

Darkness fell over him like a blanket. He swallowed hard and strangled the hilt of the Poltergust, eyes flicking blindly through the room. The orange glow burst into existence again; it was right in front of him this time, smiling hugely as it advanced. Luigi could see in its beady eyes it though it had him. He waited, stubbornly holding his ground. He could hear the buzz of the professor's voice coming from his pack, gabbing out more instructions. After a few vicious moments, he whipped up his light, mashing its on button with extreme prejudice.

The ghost took it full force this time, right in the beady black eyes (which did not have whites, no matter what the professor had said). It was too startled to even yowl this time, jerking with a blank, glassy expression. It was both visible and sollid. Luigi didn't wait for it to recover, pointing the vacuum nozzle and jamming the on switch for all it was worth. He didn't have any idea what he was doing, but apparently he had done it right; the suction seized to the ghost in a way Luigi wasn't expecting, pulling so hard he was nearly tugged off his feet. He planted his stance and pulled back, which was just as well, since the ghost had come out of it's stupor at this point. It howled and wailed, bucking, thrashing, and generally flying all over the confined space. The Poltergust followed it's every move, drawn along by an invisible connection. Luigi was dragged bodally forward, despite his solid stance. It was all he could to to hold on, stumbling this way and that in an attempt to not be pulled flat onto his face. It felt more like a fishing than vacuuming. He followed the metaphor, pulling back on the nozzle as if he were reeling in. It seemed to work. With one final despairing warble, the ghost was sucked down the tube into the belly of the machine.

Luigi just stood there gasping and swallowing, his scalp prickling and all his hair standing on end. He could hear the professor trying to talk to him again: it sounded like a complement.

Rigidly, he walked back to retrieve the flashlight he had dropped.

Luigi nabbed quite a few ghosts before the training was done. The whole process was relatively without incident, accepting the time he had been backed into the hatch by a pack of three ghosts. E. Gadd hit him with five spectors at once on the last round. He had ducked and weaved, moving in little more than a panicked flurry but somehow managed to deal with them all in the end.

The professor was ecstatic.  
"Well done lad!" he blared as the lights turned back on. Luigi winced and brought up an arm to guard his eyes.  
"You're a right natural at this!"

That was encouraging at least. Luigi was under the impression he had been utterly inept. There was a hiss as the door behind him unbolted.

He stumbled out of the training room, still strangling the nozzle of the Poltergust like a vice, looking a bit wild eyed. The professor was waiting for him, and gave him a hardy slap on the back.  
"That was brilliant! The finest bit of ghost hunting I've seen in quite some time!" he gabbed out. Enthusiasm was radiating off him in waves.

So maybe he was being serious.

Luigi blinked a few times, clearing away light induced tears. His legs felt like they were liquefying now that the adrenaline was wearing off. One thing was for sure though, he had made his peace with the Poltergust. He didn't care what it looked like, he was glad to have it, and exceedingly grateful to the professor for lending it too him. It made his nerves creek thinking he had been about to go into that mansion without it.

"Are you doing alright, lad?" asked the professor, looking at him keenly.

Luigi gave one more hard bink and rubbed his face.  
"Yeah, I'm fine."

The profesor watched him for a moment, then just shook his head.  
"Anyhow, I think you're about ready to look for your brother."

Luigi steeled himself and nodded. He was as ready as he was ever going to be. His first step was shaky, but the rest were solid. He crossed the room in three long strides, the profesor clipping along behind him.

"Just remember," said E. Gadd when they reached the ladder, "I'll be right here if you need me, just use the Gameboy Horror."

Luigi froze, one hand on the iron rungs. "You're not coming with?"

"I'm sorry, lad. I would if I could," said the profesor, "What you're wearing now is the only Poltergust I have here, and even if I had another, I'm afraid I would only slow you down."

Luigi looked down at the little man ruefully. That was probably true.

"You still won't be going in there totally alone. I'll be at the monitors the whole time telling you anything you need to know, you have my word on it . And I'll see you to the mansion at least."

"Stiff upper lip, lad!" said E. Gadd when Luigi's uneasy expression lingered. "You're a natural, I have full confidence in you."

Luigi forced up a smile.  
"I appreciate it."

With that, he sung onto the ladder, and climbed.  


• • •  
  


The boo was gone.

Apparently it could only take so much of Novi's nonsense; when it was absolutely sure she wasn't going to budge, it had simply disappeared. At first it made her uncomfortable; she listened for a long while, sure he had only turned invisible, but as time dragged on, her suspicions began to ease.

When the old chittering started bouncing off the walls, her doubts were erased entirely.

With the fresh wave of sound, though, came a fresh wave on concerns. The chatter was farther away than it had been before, but there was more of it, as if a whole pack of the glowing creatures were hanging around in the passages. Then, without warning, everything would go quiet and stay that way for long periods of time.

It was these bouts of silence which made Novi the most uneasy. Her mind kept pushing forward images of a twisted face leering behind her, crawling up from the shadows of the table.

Ultimeltly, that was why she moved.

She didn't go far, just to one of the smaller square tables in the corner, but having a wall at her back made all the difference. Another perk of the spot was a better view of the room: it was the perfect place to learn something more about the creatures making all the noise.

They were closer than she had realized, quite a few of them drifting around the edges of the room. They were an extremely bright bunch when they bothered to show themselves, coming in every shape and color you could think of. Their glow tainted everything around them, turning the floor and walls into a proper kaleidoscope. They were also a lively bunch, yacking and warbling at each other almost constantly.

For the most part the creatures left her alone. A few came over to check out her light, but that was the extent of it. As soon as they realized they couldn't reach her, they went about their own business, paying her hardly any attention at all. It was like bird watching in a way, Novi found it rather enjoyable.  
Unfortunately, this didn't last long either.

After a short time something seemed to agitate them. Their calls changed, hardening out into excited yelps. Instead of lingering, they moved in tight, quick packs, only showing themselves for a moment before whisking off to other places. They were also more aggressive. A few different swarms tried homing in on her hiding place. Novi hunkered down hard whenever this happened, weapon in hand, jabbing out from under the table at anything that got too close. After a bit of dodging around, they would generally move off again, in varying states of disgust.

There was a different sort of call bouncing around the walls as well: it was more raspy, and it reminded her distinctly of the voice of the boo. It never seemed to be in the same room as her, but it was in the halls around, and particularly under the floor. It didn't maker her terribly comfortable.

Novi kept a sharp eye, watching for any signs of her old companion's return. She wasn't particularly worried about the boo itself, all things considered he had turned out pretty benign, but she had got the distinct feeling he would harm her if he could. There was also the concern of what he would bring with him when he came back. Novi hadn't missed the infessis on 'our house' during their earlier conversation.

For the first time in quite a while, she considered moving for real, plunging back into the halls. It would make her harder to track down at least. Then again, there did seem to be a lot of ghosts out there at the moment; whatever was causing the commotion was out there too, and by the sound of it, it was close.

Wandering around again could very well land her in something sticky. So she waited.

Eventually the area seemed to clear out entirely, silence creeping across the room like twilight. No more calls and chirps, no more ghosts. Even the sound of rustling wings in the rafters came to a gradual end.

Novi wondered what had happened in the halls. Had the ghosts dealt with the situation, whatever it was? Or maybe it had just moved off, taking the storm of glowies with it.

Softly, the thought that it may have been Comet stowed into her mind.

She cringed, all at once the feeling like a horrible idiot. Now that she thought about it, there was a good chance that's exactly what it had been. What else could it be in this place? They were the only ones here after all.

Yes, there had been that shout way back at the beginning of this, but the more Novi had thought about it the more she was sure it had been a fake: some sort of ploy to get them to leave their lit room.

She should have checked on the situation at least. Novi could have helped, but she had waisted her opportunity. Now she was on her own, and Comet was too.

That was exactly the kind of mistake she was not allowed to make.

Novi took a deep breath, reeling in her thoughts. Maybe she had missed Comet, but she was probably fine. The ghosts would be the ones in for trouble if they caught up with her. After all, if she could handle them, Comet would flatten them. Despite the efforts to dismiss it, the worry still stayed, batting around her consciousness like a moth. Novi was very familiar with Comet's tendence to miss details, and that could get her into trouble here, particularly if the boos got involved.

There was a low shuffling across the room.

Novi flattened herself in her space blanket and listened. After a few moments, it came again. It didn't seem like a ghost; here was no chirping or giggling, just a soft, gentle swiff of fabric, faint but distinct.

She crept forward under the legs of the chair, peering out into the dark room, but with the light of the creatures gone, her view was confined to her very narrow circle.

She hesitated for a moment, then doused her light and waited. Whatever it was would come around the table in a moment, until then, she didn't need to be giving away her position.

As the thing continued to approach, Novi's suspicions began peique. The cloth she was hearing was too light for the weather cloak Comet had been wearing, and despite her boots and notoriously heavy stride, Novi never heard so much as a step.

Slowly, something became visible around the edge of the table. Novi still couldn't make it out properly, but it was obvious right away it wasn't Comet. The ethereal glow kind of gave it away.

She retreated back into the depths of her hiding spot, watching the thing intently. It moved slowly, stopping at regular intervals around the table. Every time it stopped, there was another a soft swish.

It seemed like a ghost, though it was dimmer and had a different shape to it than the others. The thing continued on it's rounds, steadily working it's way nearer to Novi's position. It was carrying a basket, and seemed to be changing out the place mats around the table.

It passed the point closest to her without incident and continued on it's way. Novi felt a small wash of relief, but as soon as the sensation hit her, the creator stopped, looking back and forth in a confused way.

Novi lay perfectly still. It couldn't see her from there, it wasn't possible. She had no idea what had set it off, but it couldn't see her.

The creature set it's basket on the table with a thump and began an earnest float around the edge of it. Novi got a small, unpleasant thrill as it grabbed the table cloth and peeked under at her old hiding spot. It froze again then straightened, turning to look over the room again, eyes coming to rest on her little square side table.

Novi gripped for the hilt of her weapon.

It's eyes plowed back and forth over her hiding spot, a look of confusion pressed over it's features. Slowly, it began to drift in her direction then stopped as Novi's heart gave a squeamish thump.

"Professor?" It asked, in a soft, far away kind of voice. It was obviously a she.

Novi didn't respond.

It drifted forward again, resting a hand on the edge of the tablecloth, hesitation gone.

"Honestly, what is this nonsense?" she said, pulling it away with a dull swish. Novi whipped up her weapon, activating it's ionization with a fizz.  
The creature dodged back at the sudden light. Carefully, and from a decedent distance back, she bent down and examined the underside of the table; then proceeded to have a mini seizure as she met Novi's gaze.

"But what are you..." It said, when it had apparently remembered how to speak. "How did you- How did you get here? Darling, it's not safe!''

It really, genuinely sounded distressed.  
"I know." Novi answered, not knowing what else to say.

This only made the thing more baffled. She gave a quick scope of the room again, looking very ruffled and uneasy, then turned to Novi again with an expression of pure worry and disbelief.  
"I just don't understand- " she started, then broke off, her expression hardening. "But never mind that, not here."

She looking around the room again with a new air of severity.  
"Come with me, you need to get out of this chamber at least, and quickly."  
The creature shoved the removed tablecloth under one arm, grabbed her basket, and settled into another ernest drift, this time heading for the door of the room.

Novi watched her go. If it had been her custom to gape, she would have been doing it.

"Well, are you coming?" asked the ghost when she looked back and Novi wasn't behind her.

Novi hesitated for another moment, then grabbed her things, and followed.

• • •

Comet had been having an interesting time since her discovery of the hoax.

As soon as she lost the imposter, the building had jumped alive; colorful blobs appearing in every room and around every corner. The things weren't stupid, they learned pretty quick what happened if they got too close, and for the most part were giving her a fair bit of personal space, but that didn't mean they were leaving her alone.

They followed wherever she went, squalling like a pack of deranged banshees. It made stealth impossible, so Comet had simply stopped trying. She tore through the place, breaking doors and shouting. If she made enough noise, Novi would have to hear eventually.

Even with this new turn of events, Comet was still convinced Novi had only gotten lost. It was what had happened after that which had her so worried. She had no idea how Novi would respond to this. Yeah, she could defend herself, but that wouldn't matter if she panicked.

And then there was the other worry. The dread that these things hadn't strait out attacked her tugged at Comet's stomach. What if they had come after Novi the same way they had come for her? Fooled her using Comet's own voice, and led her away to who knows where.

Heaven knew Comet did that sort of thing often enough in reality.

She slid to a stop at another crossroads, breathing hard. She needed to find a way outside and get to Murzim, but this place was a labrinth, and she was getting nowhere. This was taking way too long; the sense that time had run out was suffocating. Every minute waisted was another minute for something horrible to happen.

This was it. The ultimate screw up with the ultimate consequence.

Comet had a sudden and fierce desire to smack the vase next to her to the floor. Maybe grind the thing into the carpet for good measure. The only thing that stopped her was the look Novi would have given if she was there to see. That flat, 'are you serious' look, the one that drove home exactly how much older Comet was than her, and how she should act like it.

She kept moving.

These halls were infuriating; they wasn't just hard to navigate, the layout just didn't make sense. It was impossible, like trying to navigate 'the doors', and do what she might, she couldn't find an exit.

Comet rounded on the next door she found and began the tedious process of getting inside. The ghosts around her giggled and squealed with excitement as the wood shuddered under her boot. It gave with an explosive crash, revealing yet another dim, half furnished room.

There was a long, rectangular table and two cabinets, one upright the other fallen, a multi colored shower of china glistening in front of it. The far wall was entirely dedicated to large windows.

The windows were the only thing Comet was interested in, and she made right for them. Her shoal of ghosts flooding in behind her, filling the space with sound and light.

Like most of the other windows in this place, the they were the old fashioned, barred kind: little panes of glass suspended in a latce. This latce in this particular was wood rather than the metal, but it was thick, solid wood, the kind that wouldn't be breaking any time soon.

Comet knew from experience windows like this were a security measure, something more than a sheet of glass to keep casual thieves out, particularly on the lower levels. So far they had proven equally effective at keeping her in. This set did seem to open though, or had been able to open once: they were an ancient take on the slide-up variety, but were so warped Comet couldn't imagine they worked anymore.

Nevertheless, she flipped the latch lock and pulled.

The first window came open about a half an inch before it jammed, the swollen wood sticking and grinding in the old grooves. Comet tried the next one and then the next; every single one stuck within the first inch, and two of them refused to budge at all. The fresh, cool air swept in through the cracks, bringing with it the smell of ocean and rain. Cold as it was, it was heavenly compared the stuff, dusty stuff in here.

Comet threw a quick glance back at the ghosts to make sure none of them were getting any ideas. They didn't seem to be, so she returned to the softest-stuck window and began dealing with it the old fashioned way: wiggling, banging, and generally forcing it along its tracks. It gave in millimeters, groaning with every shift. The sun would rise before she made a big enough gap to squeeze through.

She desperately wished she could just use her sword for this job, but it didn't quite work that way. Ionized blades were meant for slashing, not hacking; they were soft, and the edge of hers was already warped from ignoring that. If it warped too much it's inner workings would tweak, the ionization would fail altogether, and she would be left with a simi useless chunk of metal. Considering it was the only thing standing between her and her colorful friends, it wasn't a risk she could take.

Comet continued to rattle and pound, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds to check on the mottley pack. They watched her like this was some sort of show, eyes staring divites into the back of her head. It made her skin crawl.

All at once the window gave, jerking upward a whole three and a half inches with a shriek of distressed wood. Comet's heart jumped; the slit wasn't quite big enough to get out of yet, but it was so close. Now all she had to do was get her shoulder under there and push a little harder...

"What was that?" a voice barked.

It was a thick, wet voice. Comet went rigid; the ghosts arounder her did too, then scattered like a pack of minnows, flitting through the walls.

That was not a good sign.

She grit her teeth and flipped off the flood lamp, sliding back into the shadow of the fallen cupboard. There was a heavy, gurgling gasp from the next room; she stayed low, thrumming the hilt of her weapon, and watched the adjacent door.

But it didn't use the door.

Slowly and laboriously, a grotesque thing drifted through the wall. It was huge, fat hanging off its body in translucent rolls, too-small head perched like a toy over a pair of massive, sagging shoulders. The abomination waddled to the middle of the room, tail dragging the ground as if it could hardly stay afloat. It glowered over the place with small, watery eyes until its gaze fell on the open windows, a look of disgust dribbling across it's expression.

It lumbered to the windows, and much to Comet's distress, tried to force the thing down. She needn't have worried. Almost immediately the thing began to puff and wheeze, the window hardly budged a millimeter under its massive, almost fingerless hands. After a moment it gave up and returned to glowering over the room, tiny head jerking erratically on its voluminous neck. It's nasty pink glow licked over everything, glittering off the glass of the cabinets and muddling the colors of the carpet. Frustration was obvious in its expression, but there was something else there too, something almost akin to anxiety.

Comet stayed crouched in her shadow, equal parts horrified and disgusted, eyes locked on the abomination in front of her. She hoped with everything in her that it would just leave, go back to where it had come from. But one thing was for sure, she wasn't getting run off. Not now.

Eventually, the thing did start to leave. It gave one last peer around the room, and with a colossal wheeze began to retreat, floating backwards with a jerky uneasiness. Comet's face twisted into a determined snarled and she tensed, ready to bolt for the window the second the thing was gone. Then it stopped again, inches from the wall, eyes resting beside the fallen cabinet.

It was staring right at her.

There was shock on both sides as they met each other's gaze. The creature's expression morphed between anxiety to suspicion, then to a twisted kind of curiosity. It's body posture shifted, reading loud and clear it wanted to advance, but that trace of anxiety heald it back. Slowly, it opened it's wide mouth, displaying a massive black gulet, and beletched a huge wad of flames.

Comet was too shocked to even yelp. She scrambled back as the mess hit the cupboard, burning globs splattering everywhere. The dank smell of singed wool and pine eeking into the air. She jumped to the side, diving behind the table as another flaming ball of glop arched through the room. The wood smoked at the contact, white lace tablecloth melting away to creeping bits of ash.

Whatever reservations the thing had, they were gone now. It lumbered forward, picking up steam like a rock down a hill, plunging right through the table in its charge. Comet jumped to the side again, and it careened past like a runaway train, momentum sending it strait through the wall. There was an angry, wheezing wail from the hallway and a crash. Comet rolled under the table again as it came launched back into the room, rage globbed across it's whole gummy persona. It didn't hesitate for an instant, despite the empty room. It lurched to the table, grabbed the corners with it's beefy hands and threw it to the side.

Tableware, candles, and what was left of the table cloth spilled across the floor. Comet flattened against the ground to avoid getting snagged by one of the table legs as it whipped by her head. She rolled to her feet with a shout as the thing charged forward again, throwing chairs to either side as it came. Every nerve in her body told her to move, but she held her ground. Comet dropped the extinguished lantern, drew her weapon, and slashed the thing deep through the bloated stomach.

It let out a horrible, shrieking squeel the like of which Comet never wanted hear again, but it kept coming. She bounced off its flabby bulk as it hurtled past, falling to the floor as it hit the windows with a wall rattling splat.

The thing wheezed and peeled it self off the wall, hatred burning in its chest quite literally. Comet scrambled away as it rounded, narrowly avoiding another shot of magma, then threw herself to the floor as it charged again. It carrened over her head with an infuriated yowl and to stop itself, but as before it was useless. A moment later it was back out in the hall, bellowing a string of wet, dirty sounding gibberish.

Comet scrambled to her feet. Time to leave. It was time to leave.

She lunged franticall for the window, rammed her shoulder up under the half open panel, and heaved. The gap widened with two jarring slides, and Comet climbed up onto the sill. For one instant she lined up her rout, then planted her boot onto the roof. The step healed, griping through the water onto the solid tile beneath, so she swung the rest of the way out, balancing precariously on the slanted surface.

That's about when the massive hand jutted through the window, locking down on her shoulder live a vice.

Comet instinctively grabbed the hand, trying to pry it off, but the gummy, semisolid fingers were having no such thing. A not nice word crashed through her mind as that sickening, draining sensation engulfed her system. She twisted and thrashed, her feet slipping on the slick tiles. The thing let out a chokey exclamation as she slid, it's grip broke, and she spilled off the roof, landing with a sticky plop in the mud below.

* * *

 

Notes:

So, I have a little request for you guys.

The main point of this project, all the way from the beginning, has been practice. Practice with character, dialogue, and maintaining tension. Practice knuckling down on a project and getting it done. So the question is, how have I been doing?

Honestly, brutally, what do you think of this story so far? Good or bad? Where are it weakest and strongest points. It's almost impossible to pick out all the flaws in your own writing; if you have notes, comments, criticisms, anything please let me know. It would be a great help.


	7. Dark Hallways

__

 

Mario’s position was not improving much.

Ghosts were no longer an issue.  They were still present, cropping up in practically every chamber he entered, but for some reason, they seemed to have developed an unholy terror of his presence.  All he had to do was poke his nose into a room, and the majority of them would scatter, like so much wind blown tissue paper.  There were a brave few who still tried to charge him, but even these would shrivel back and vanish before breaching a six foot radius around his person.  

It was helpful, yes, but also exceedingly unnerving.

Nothing had changed since his escape from the dungeon, at least nothing he knew of, and definitely nothing that should trigger this kind of response.  So the question was, why was it happening?

No answer he came up with made any sense.  No comforting answers anyways.

Something was profoundly wrong.  His instincts told him to make tracks, take some effort to lose the thing he felt so certain was watching him, but that was a little hard to do when every other direction he turned was barred by a locked door.

Traversing the rooms was painfully slow, even with the lack of ghosts.  His original assumption about the doors had only been half true; it was a pretty even split between the ones that were locked and the ones that weren’t in the chambers.  And among these doors there were a fair few that simply refused to open.  It would seem despite the number of keys crammed onto it, the ring he had was incomplete.  Or maybe it was more than that.  Even at the stuck doors, he would often find a key that seemed to fit, but the lock still wouldn’t turn.  It was a soft, sticky kind of stuck, as if something were fighting him from the  other side.  Mario could only assume it was an enchantment of some kind.

It wasn’t that far fetched; this place was full of boos after all, and King Boo in particular seemed rather ept at enchantments.  Mario only hopped he wouldn’t stumble into anything of a more malicious nature.

Like, maybe the halls.

As a rule, Mario tried to stick to the inner rooms as much as possible, but between the impassable doors and the fact that he was trying to navigate to the front of this place, it wasn’t always possible.  Every time he used the halls, without fail, he got turned around.  There were any number of enchantments that could have that kind of effect, anything from the boo’s subtle skill of befuddlement, to a particularly nasty ‘infinite passage’ trap.

So here he was, doing the dungeon cha-cha, two steps forward, one step back, just waiting for the boos to show up and take another bite out of him.

And to make matters worse, he had just hit another dead end.  

Mario pushed open the door to the halls as quietly has he could.  He was starting to hate the doors here; some opened as smooth as ice, others… not so much.  There was no rhyme or reason to it either, telling the difference between the two was impossible until it was too late to matter.  It was the worst thing imaginable for shot nerves, and as much as Mario hated to admit it, his nerves were frayed pretty thin at this point.

He moved quickly now that he was in the open, watching every shadow and listening.  But there was nothing new to note, just more aged wood paneling and peeling plaster.  He didn’t even see any ghosts, which was… rather unusual.  He tried not to think about it.

Judging by the last set of windows he had encountered, and assuming he hadn’t gotten turned around again, he had a fair idea of which way the front of the building was.  Using that information, he took the first right turn he encountered and found himself looking down a long, strait passage.

Mario hesitated.  After the slow maneuvering of the inner rooms a straightforward passage was a tempting thing.  How turned around could you get going in a straight line anyways?  He began down the hall in a brisk walk, but didn’t get far.  After passing what seemed to be the same painting twice, he thought better of his choice.  He doused his fireball, pulled the key ring out of his pocket, and chose a door to tackle.

The slow burn of adrenaline was wreaking havoc on his system’ his hands were clammy beneath his gloves, and they shook.  He gripped the little bits of metal tighter and continued to weed through them, comparing each set of embellished hilts to the decorative trim around the door.  He only fumbled for a few moments, though, before realizing he wasn’t alone.

There was a low, ragged muttering bleeding up from the other end of the passage.  It wasn’t a new sound; Mario had picked up on it soon after entering this hall.  At first he had put it down to the common ghosts, that assumption was rapidly deteriorating, though, as he started to pick out actual, intelligible words slurred into it.  

Slowly, he turned his head, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. At first he saw nothing, just the long, dimly lit passage. As he watched, though, a subtle motion drew his eye.  

There was a tall, crooked shadow snaking through the candle light on the walls.  The hair on the back of Mario’s neck began to rise as he searched for the source of the shape, but the only thing he could find was a single, unlit candle bracket bobbing gently in the air.

Mario muffled the key ring in his hands and slid it into his pocket.  The new ghost didn’t seem to take any notice of him; by the looks of it’s shadow, it seemed to be facing the other direction. Silently, Mario began to slip back the way he had come, heading for the bend in the passage. The candles reached the end of it’s pacing rout and stopped, slowly turning around.  The horrid shadow turned as well, trailing behind as the whole fiasco moved in Mario’s direction.  It still seemed oblivious to his presence though, at least for now.  Mario sped up his retreat, eyes focused on the shadow, then, with a great deal of suddenness, rammed into an end table.

There was a rattle and a crash as the corresponding vase fell  to the floor.  Both he, and the candlestick froze.

Mario grit his teeth and waited for whatever was to happen next.  Slowly, as if it took a great deal of effort, the blued-out impression of an old man eased into view.  There was something about his crushed, spindly form that made Mario intensely uneasy, and the look on it’s harp, flinty face wasn’t helping.  Despite this, he held his ground, forcing himself to stay calm.  This ghost was like the key keeper, and he had helped him.  Maybe this ghost wasn’t an enemy either, despite the initial impression it gave.

Mario searched his brain for the proper way to address him, but nothing came to mind.  Then the ghost flew at him.

There was no warning, no indication that it would attack, it just flew at him with a high, wailing shriek.   Mario threw his hands up to protect his face, but the creature passed right through that, then through the rest of him as if he didn’t even exist.  Mario fell forward with a gasp as he was hit with the most horrible sensation.  The drain from the other ghosts was nothing compared to this; it was as if his life was being dragged away right through his skin.  He had the vague impression of being pushed against the wall, pinned there by a massive, ethereal hand.  He pushed against it, fighting the grip with everything he had, but there wasn’t anything solid enough to pry away.

Mario started to see black in the corners of his vision.  Nothing was obstructing this throat, but it refused to take down any air.  In desperation, he lashed out in the direction of the ghost, summoning as much fire as he could muster.

This was the best thing he could have done.

Instantly the ghost reeled back, howling in fright.  Mario slumped against the wall, then staggered forward, gulping down air and kindling a fresh fist full of fire.  The ghost retreated to the far wall, and prowled back and forth.  It had a wild look in its silver, dead eyes, gaze flicking between Mario and his escape route.  It shrieked again and made another charge. 

Mario held his ground, there wasn’t a lot more he could do. The ghost broke off again as it approached the fire, yattering its displeasure in half intelligible words.  Mario putting all he had into sending a shot after it as it retreated.  It was a pathetic excuse for a fire blast, but it worked.  The creature yowled again, dodged, and ducking though a wall.

He didn’t wait for it to come back.  As soon as it was gone Mario ran down the passage, belting as far away from the place as possible, head spinning and vision half blurred.  Soon he found himself in a dead end, the hall barred over by a slick of glowing vines.

He leaned against the wall choked down more air.  He wasn’t being followed, not that he could hear anyways.  Slowly, the sickening remnants of the draining sensation began to pass: his vision righted itself, and his breath came easier.  The grim thought of what would’ve happened if the key keeper had attacked him played at the edges of his mind.

He had no idea what he was going to do.  No supplies, no power ups, no idea how to get out.  He was on his own in the heart of an enemy castle, and it was swarming with ghosts he couldn’t fight.  For once Mario honestly felt outmatched: dropped in the deep end.

And one thing was for sure, he was completely turned around again.

“Are you okay mister?” Asked a small voice to his right.

Mario jumped away as if he had been stung, nausea clapping down on him at the sudden movement.  Vaguely he could discern another blue shape a short ways up the hall.

It looked like a little boy.

 

• • •

 

The professor was true to his word. Despite the pouring rain, he walked with Luigi all the way to the front of the mansion.  

Luigi appreciated the gesture, he really did, but there was something inexplicably unnerving about him standing at the bottom of the stairs, smiling and waving like that.  The professor had full confidence in him, at least that’s what he said.  The casual expression was probably supposed to enforce that somehow, boost his confidence, but it wasn’t working.  All Luigi felt at this point was nervous, and more than a little worried.   

He reached the top of the stairs, gave a final nod to the professor, and walked through the door into the mansion.

The Foyer was empty. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but nothing seemed to have changed since his earlier visit. He didn’t linger, just took a deep breath and made for the curving stairs, eyes peeled for lurking specters.

The double doors to the parlor were still open a smidge.  Luigi didn’t push his way in immediately, opting to stop and listen instead.  Maybe, if he was lucky, he could catch the ghosts by surprise this time.  He didn’t hear anything in the room though.

Luigi swallowed hard, adjusted his grip on the light, and pushed open the door. There was nothing.

Well, nothing was a relative term.  Evidence of his first encounter was littered everywhere.  Glass was splattered across the floor where he had slammed into the cabinet, and the table was slightly askew.  The sheepskin rug he had tripped on, or at least he guessed that was what he had tripped on, lay in a bizarre twisted lump.  But there were still no ghosts.

Rigidly, Luigi entered the room every muscle tensed, waiting for a snarl and a flash or orange, but none came.  After a few moments of waiting he started to wonder if the ghosts had moved off, went to hunt other places when he and the professor had left.  Luigi wasn’t about to stake his well being on that kind of wishful thinking, though.  They had waited a good while to attack him the first time after all, and that was before, when all he had to defend  himself was his old, dinky flashlight.

He glanced down at the new light; maybe that was the problem.  Luigi didn’t allow himself the time to think it over, just flicked it off and waited in the dark.  Still nothing. It was almost disappointing, honestly; rather anticlimactic after how worked up he had been getting himself.  Maybe the sight of him with the poltergust was enough to deter them.  Then again, the training ghosts hadn’t shown much pause. Maybe they really had just moved off.

Luigi gave a final glance over his shoulder, just in case the things decided to try a more stealthy approach, then began to inspect the room more thoroughly.  He didn’t know what he was looking for exactly, some sort of sign that Mario had passed, but there wasn’t much to find.  Eventually, his searching brought him back around to the dark cabinet, and he took a moment to glower at the candles again.  They flickered innocently on their half melted sticks, the blue and purple light making the whole area look rather sad.  Luigi was unsympathetic.

He hadn’t been on all that many adventures, but he had been through enough to associate that color flame with enchantments.  

Kamek used them sometimes, and so had Cackletta.  They were always present when Bowser tried that infinite stairs trick on Mario, or, at least that was what Mario had told him, and you could always find a few in the ghost infested shacks on the way to Bowser’s territory.  Luigi had no idea what this set was tied to, but he didn’t care to find out.  Whatever it was though, he had found its source, and the candles were unprotected. 

He didn’t have a fantastic understanding of enchantments, whether they were kept running by the flame, or the flame was just a byproduct, he didn’t know.  If the latter were true, he may not even be able to put the candles out, but he was sure going to try.  He didn’t want to get close enough to blow them out the normal way, but it didn’t take him long to come up with a solution for that.  He raised the nozzle of the poltergeist, pointed it at the candles, and flipped the switch before any countermeasures could stop him.

The spurts of flame went out instantaneously, hot wax splattering all over the dresser.  Luigi stepped back in alarm as two of the melty sticks were sucked straight out of their stands and devoured by the machine.  They rattled around inside the poltergust, distressing sounds coming from the hose.  Luigi’s heart jumped into his throat, afraid they would clog the thing, but after a moment, the comotion settled as the candles clattered down into the canister.

Great.  Now there were enchanted candle sticks in his vacuum.  He hoped he wouldn’t regret that later…

He didn’t have long to ponder this though, as something began to rattle over his head.  Luigi jumped back, eyes snapping to the sound;  it was the painting above the dresser, and it was bouncing against the wall as if something was trying to get out.

“Who put out the lights!  Was it you mister lime green?” spat a gravelly voice.  “Well, that’s alright then, we’ve been expecting you.”  it said, tone changing to an unpleasant sort of bemused.

Luigi was speechless.  Rattling was striking up all through the room now.  He whipped around to see more portraits, each vibrating in turn with a ferocity to dislodge their nails.  

“You’re quite late, dear,” said a different voice, the portrait of an young woman.  “Don’t you know it’s rude to keep people waiting?  But don’t worry, we’ll keep you here until they can collect you.”

“ And no sneaking away now.  We can’t have that.”  she added with an obnoxious giggle.

Luigi had indeed been backing away, creeping towards the door to the foyer.  That was put to an abrupt stop though, as the door snicked shut behind him.  Luigi tossed caution and made a bolt for the closed door, only for a slick of webbing to spring across its surface as he reached it.  The tendrils jumped at him as they grew, lashing around his hand and shocking him right through his glove.  He yelped and fell back, bits of stinging vine coming away with him.  The man laughed as Luigi franticly removed the burning bits.  He threw the last remnants to the ground and looked to the other door.  That too was a pulsing mesh of vines.  He was trapped.

“Aww, look at him shake.  Are you scared little man?” crooned the woman.

“Any moment now!  They’re coming to take you away, just like red cap before you.” said the man.

Luigi froze to the spot, eyes raising to face the flat eyes of the speaker.

“ _What?”_

He got another laugh in response.

The spell was broken as a familiar roar shattered the air behind him.  He whipped around with a speed born of pure panic, lasering the orange ghost in the eyes.  It screamed and vanished.

Right, too fast, that was too fast.

There was another roar and the next ghost sprang into existence, a flood of orange filling the room.  Luigi held his ground, strangling the flashlight and the poltergust, counting the seconds and waiting.  At the last moment he blasted the thing in the face, and sucked it down just as the next one appeared.

The rest came easily after that.  Despite the treats of the portraits, there were only three ghosts to deal with.  The last one went down with a wail, and all was still.  Then the lights flicked on.

Luigi yelled out, stumbling in a blind panic, just waiting for something to maul him while he was down. But nothing did.  Slowly his eyes adjusted. He peered, blinking around the room then wearily at the paintings.  They were silent and still.

Or at least, mostly still.  Something white was drifting in the air, just in front of the painting of the man, looking dazed, see-through-ish, and disoriented.

It was a boo.

The boo caught sight of Luigi as well, squealed, and tried to dart away.  Not knowing what else to do, Luigi whipped up the poltergust and jammed the on switch.  The suction didn’t latch on like it did to the other ghosts, but it definitely pulled the boo back.  The creature yelped again and tried to shake him, but Luigi kept the nozzle trained on it. In another moment it vanished down the pipe.

That explained the talking portraits at least

Luigi made a loop of the  paintings, giving each one a suck with the poltergust.  If there was another boo in here, he needed to find it quickly.  Or maybe there had just been the one. Boos could change their voices when they wanted to after all, something he had learned first hand on other adventures.

He really hoped there was only the one.

The words of the boo weighed on him as he searched, chewing an anxious hole in his mind.   Despite what the professor had said, Luigi had been dubious about how much Mario actually needed his help.  Mario had tackled plenty of places like this before and been just fine, Luigi didn’t see why this one would be and different.  Was he worried?  Yes, but when it really came down too it, he was sure his brother was fine, fighting through this place like he always did.  

But, “They’re coming to take you away, just like red cap before you,” was not a promising statement.

There was an equally strong chance the boo was messing with him.  That’s what boos were known for after all: playing upon people’s fears.  It could have been total bularky, specifically tailored to drive him up.  The problem was, there was no good way to know the truth of the matter.

He didn’t find any more boos. Even with the ghosts gone and the room lit he felt like the paintings were watching him. Satisfied with his search, Luigi made his way to the door at the other end of the room.  

The webbing over it was dark now, a dead, limp mess of burnt out brown.  He prodded it with the poltergust, ready to yank it back if the stuff tried to grab it, but it dissolve to sand at the slightest touch. The door underneath opened easily.  

The room beyond was bare, musty, and stuffed with ghosts.  He even made a new acquaintance, a purple, beefy fisted specter who tried to punch him from behind.  Luigi duck and wove in a frantic dance, sucking down ghosts as fast as he could.  As soon as they were gone, the lights winked on here as well.

Luigi stood in the middle of the floor, breathing hard and blinking up at the ceiling bulb. The whole concept didn’t make a lot of sense.  He spared a moment to have another look at the electrical situation.

The setup here was very similar to the one he had seen in the foyer.  Wires ran down the outside of the wall ending in a big, bulky switch.  It made sense now, given what he knew about the professor, but he didn’t see any reason why the lights should turn on when the ghosts were captured.  It didn’t seem like anything threatening in it though, so he left it alone, turning his attention to the rest of the room.

Not counting the one he had just come through, there were two doors and a downward staircase leading off it; he tried the stairs first, only to very nearly walk into another web.  This one wasn’t even over a door: it was just draped across the passage in glowing mass of ribbon.  Beyond, he could just barely make out a long, dark hall. He obviously wasn’t going that way.  That passage ruled out, he returned upstairs to check the doors. One was locked, the other wasn’t.  There was a chance one of the keys the professor had given him went with the first, but the second was easier, so he took that one.

The next chamber was very different from the rest. It looked like it had been a sunroom once, or maybe a kind of mini greenhouse.  Whatever it had been, it was destroyed now.  The plants had completely taken over, glossy green vines crawling across the walls and floor before gracefully ducked out through holes in the windows. The smell of rain and deepening evening was sweet here, a nice change from the ever present mustiness inside.  The drip and pater of water off of the leaves dominated the room, and the leaky ceiling left the floor slick and warped.

Luigi turned slow circles, taking in the aesthetic of the room, the  yelled properly when a ghost appeared at his elbow.  He sucked the thing down quick, glad there was no one around to have heard.  Once the colorful crew was gone, the light came on, but it was subtle, just a pair of cracked lamps wedged in the far corner.

A scope of the rest of the room turned up nothing useful. There wasn’t a sigh that Mario had ever been this way before. This feeling was only strengthen when every one of the three doors leading off the room were locked. There was a balcony, guarded by an intimidating tangle of vines and a pair of half shattered glass doors. but after a brief inspection,  Luigi decided that didn’t count. It didn’t go anywhere after all, just looked out over sodden front turf. The floor of the balcony itself was wrapped and falling apart. One wrong move and you would fall strait through the rotting boards into the pooling mud below. Luigi opted not to try his luck. After a good bit of squinting and craning, to make sure it didn’t connect to the next room, he decided to let it be.

This raised an interesting question though. Where on earth was Mario? He hadn’t had any keys, that was for certain, so how was it he had managed to get through the locked doors? He must have managed it somehow, if he hadn’t, either Luigi or the professor would have found him by now. The question was, how?

Had the ghosts allowed him passage somehow, then locked the doors behind him? If that were the case, Mario could only go where the ghosts allowed him to, and he wouldn’t be able to go back…

Luigi shuddered, pressing the image out of his head. Mario was fine. He was sure Mario was fine. Any way you sliced it, he would be there soon, and he had the poltergust to help.

Luigi spent a good ten minutes trying keys on the locked doors. Not a single one of them would open,  so eventually he went back the way he had come. He made for the locked door he had left behind first, but his luck was the same there as well.  Mario aside, Luigi started to wonder what he was supposed to do. He wouldn’t be doing anyone a lot of good at this rate. He continued to back track. There were more locked doors in the foyer, one of them had to open with the keys he had.

There was a pleasant surprise waiting for him when he got there.  At some point while he was gone, the lights had started working again.  The room looked much different with the gold glow of the chandelier washing over it. It lacked the bright, friendly air of the toad town castle, but it was still lovely in it’s own way.  Properly regal, strong, and very grand.

Luigi wondered how the professor had managed to wire the chandelier on his own.  Or how he had managed to do half the things he had done here by himself.  Though, from what E. Gadd had said, he had been much younger at the time.

As if on queue, the gameboy horror began to ring, spewing it’s obnoxious tune into the silence.  Luigi yelped and shied away, then remembered what it was and scrambled to accept the call, feeling like a fool.

“How are you holding out, Lad?”  the professor asked before Luigi could say anything. “Oh, you got the lights back on.”

“They come on when I catch all the ghosts in a room.”  said Luigi.  “I’m doing fine.” 

The professor pondered this for a while.

“Well, that’s an interesting turn of events.  It must be some sort of enchantment then.  And here I was thinking one of the ghosts had torn out the fuse box.  Anyhow, it makes your job easier.  Not as bad as you thought it would be, is it?”

Luigi didn’t grace that with an answer.

“Can ghosts use enchantments?” he asked.

“No, well yes.  Some can, boos are handy with them for one, but none of the generic ghosts can use them, at least not that I’ve ever found.  Element ghosts don’t count to my mind.  They’re a special case.”

Luigi nodded.  He wasn’t sure what an ‘elemental ghost’ was, but he knew dang well about boos.

“I caught a boo in the pantry-” he started.

“Well, did you now?” said the professor, sounding very impressed.  “Those little sucker can be quite the pain to catch.  I’m surprised it was so close to the front of the place though.”

Luigi’s eyebrows dropped the slightest bit.  That was kind of an odd statement.

“Are there more boos here?”

The professor adjusted his glasses.  “It’s hard to say.  There definitely could be, I would even go as far as to say it’s likely, considering you’ve already caught one.  What are you doing back this way anyhow?”  he asked

Luigi’s eyebrows dropped a tiny bit further, and for a moment he seriously considered pressing the subject, but ultimately decided to let it go.

“I hit a dead end.”  he said instead.  “There were only locked doors that way.”

E. Gadd looked confused.

“But there’s a stair leading to the lower halls.  There’s no door on that passage, at least none that I remember.”

“There wasn’t a door,”  agreed Luigi.  “Just some sort blue of web. Do you know how to get rid of those?”

The professor adjusted his glasses again and there was the sound of typing.

“There’s nothing terribly straightforward to say about the subject, unfortunately.  They’re another sort of enchantment, so clearing out enough ghosts should do away with it.”

“I did catch all the ghosts.  In every room I’ve been through.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, lad.  Maybe the ghosts holding that one up are on the other side of the net.  I wouldn’t worry too much about it though, it should right itself naturally as you continue cleaning out the place.  Anyhow, I think you were right to came back this way.  Hopefully your luck will be better in the halls.” 

“You wouldn’t happen to know which doors the keys you gave me unlock, would you?”  asked Luigi.  He might as well, it couldn’t hurt, and it had the potential to save him a lot of time.  

The professor rubbed his head.

“Well, I couldn’t say right off the top of my mind.  One of em’s to the study I think, and one gets into the kitchen.”

“I mean, _where_ are the doors they unlock.  Do any of them go to doors in this room?”

“Ah.  Well, I sure can’t help you there; there are so many doors in that place.  But why don’t you use the Gameboy?”

“The Gameboy Horror?” repeated Luigi, rather confused.

“Well yes, didn’t I…  I suppose I didn’t, did I.”

The profesor sighed. There was a rattle as he slid his chair forward and typed.  The screen of the gameboy fizzed, changing from the video call to a gridlock of green squares.

“The device’s got a map built into it.”  he said, as the screen paned to a layout that resembled the foyer.  I’m controlling it from the computer now, but you can do all this from the interface too.  There’s a notch on the side as well, you can slide keys into it, and it’ll highlight the corresponding room.  Why didn’t you give it a shot?”

Luigi nodded, picked a key at random, and slid it into the slot.  After a moment, the light on the top of the device blinked green, the map highlighting a room not far away.

“That would be the office key.”  said E. Gadd with a nod.  “And I'm durned certain I had the key to get into that hall as well.  It’s gold I think, or brass to be more specific, with a curl at the head of it.”

Luigi dished through the fist full of keys, and held up the one that fit the description best.

“That’s the one!”

Luigi plugged the new key into the slot and watched as the map panned to the door directly to his left. Luigi glanced over at it, then back at the professor.

“Thank you for your help.” he said

“Not at all lad, sorry I forgot to tell you about that sooner. Now best you be on your way, there’s a lot to do tonight yet.”

Luigi nodded, and was on the verge of powering the thing off when the professor piped up again. “Oh, a bit of a warning before you go.” he said, tacking at his computer again. “I’m picking up readings of more powerful ghosts ahead, somewhere down that hall.”

Luigi’s stomach gave a flop.  “More powerful ghosts?”

“I wouldn’t be too concerned, nothing you shouldn’t be able to handle,” said the professor in a reassuring tone.  “They may be a bit harder to startle, that’s all.  Once you get a handle on them, they should come just as easily as the rest.”

Luigi didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded again.

“Well, I won’t hold you any longer. Good luck, lad.”

And with that, the device fizzed off, and E. Gadd was gone.

Luigi just stood there for a moment, thumbing the device, absorbing this new information. ‘Stronger ghosts’ was not what he needed right now. He stashed the device in his pocket, readjusted his grip on the light, and headed for the new door.

The key brass key slid right into place, and Luigi gave it a firm turn.  There was a moment of resistance, a sandy, grindy feel of disuse and rust, then the mechanism gave with a crack.

 

• • •

 

Mario pushed himself upright, ready for whatever the thing had to throw at him.  It didn’t move to attack though, just hung back and watched. 

“What do you want?”  Mario asked after a wary moment of silence.

“Well I don’t know,” said the boy, giving a sort of involuntary shrug.  “Nothing I guess. I just wanted to see how you were doing.  You weren’t looking so good for a minute there.”

Mario pitted him with one of his specially reserved scowls.  The thing was small, and seemed harmless enough, but after his earlier incident, Mario wasn’t terribly ready to trust any more ghosts.

The thing looked a little hurt, but it didn’t move.

There was another long pause. The boy shifted uncomfortably, pretending to be interested in anything other than Mario.  For whatever reason, though, it didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving.  Mario, for his part, continued to stare, not taking his eyes of the creature for a moment.

“So, ah…  What are you going to do now?”  the boy asked eventually.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Mario, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know, you’re just kinda standing there; I assumed you had something to do. Unlocking doors, wandering around. The same sort of thing you’ve been doing all night?”

“And you’ve been following me how long?”  asked Mario in a low tone.

“Oh, a long time.”  said the boy eagerly, then trailed off as he noticed Mario’s expression.  He glanced around uneasily again and drifted back a few paces.  “What?  I haven’t caused any problems.  You don’t think the blobbies left you alone be because they felt like it, did you?”

Mario glowered at him again as he sorted through this new information.  The boy had been protecting him, or at least, that’s what he seemed to be claiming.  Frankly, Mario saw no reason why the ghost would do that, but it was true he hadn’t had trouble with ghosts for a long time now.  At least, not until he had been attacked in the hall.

“What about the ghost that looked like you?”

The boy pulled a face.

“I kinda- bailed when you started to get close to him.  Shivers gives me the creeps.”

“Thanks for the warning.” said Mario flatly.

“Well I didn’t want to get fireballed either, yah know.”  said the boy, puffing himself up in a defensive way.

It was a fair point.  Mario didn’t press the matter.  

“Do you know anything about the boos? Have they been following me too?”  he asked, making an effort to sound more civil.

“Nah, we’re fine,” the boy answered, brightening considerably at the change in tone.  “You did pretty good by getting into the chambers.  They’re all confused now, everybody thinks you’re back in the west wing.  My brother’s down the hall anyways, he’ll warn us if any of them come this way.”

So there were two of them.  Mario glanced down the halls, but wasn’t surprised when he didn’t see anything.

There was another spell of silence.  The boy hovered back and forth twiddling his thumbs, but generally seemed more comfortable.  He kept glancing at Mario eagerly, but it wasn’t in a malicious way, almost as if he was waiting for Mario to speak again.   

“Hey,” said he said eventually.  “There wouldn’t happen to be anything I could get for you is there?”

“Like what?” asked Mario, a little surprised.

“Well, I don’t know, that’s why I asked.”

“I don’t think you could bring anything that would help.”  Mario said.

Of course, as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized that wasn’t exactly true.  There were several things he could use right now, ranging from his missing hat and shoe, to some sort of map.

“I d’now, the two of us can find up some pretty cool stuff around here.”  said the boy mischievously. “I could probably scrounge up something for your leg if you needed it…”

“That would be fantastic.” said Mario.

The boy tapped his chin.  

“I’m pretty sure the old man keeps a medical chest with mushroom drops in ‘secret lab’.  He forgets to refill it a lot though. That king hangs out down there too, and I don’t want to run into him. I’m pretty sure the professor grows some fancy herbs somewhere, but that’s at those other tower he visits sometimes. Maybe he brought some over though...”

  
The boy trailed off, continuing his train of thought silently. Mario eyed him keenly; so he was familiar with the professor too. He was tossing back and forth asking some questions along those lines when the boy apparently solved his dilemma.  

“No, wait!” he shouted, causing Mario to jump--he really had been in this place way too long-- “There’s a power star tucked away upstairs! Those can heal stuff, right?”

Mario started again, this time for an entirely different reason.

“There’s a power star here?”

“Yep! Up in the observatory.  The professor stashed it there about a month ago, I don’t think the boos have found it yet, and I don’t think the professor would mind too much if you borrowed it.”

Mario felt a pulse of excitement. No, a power star was not technically a healing item, but injuries or not it might just be the edge he needed to make this situation workable.

There was always the possibility the ghost boy was lying, but it was worth the risk.

“Can you show me where it is?” he asked.

The boy’s face lit up like a firecracker.

“Just follow me!” he said, and darted away down the halls.

 

* * *

 

Notes:

One thing that’s very interesting about Luigi’s mansion is how few of the ghosts are actually malicious before they’re provoked. About half the ghosts completely ignore you until you start picking fights, and all but six just try to scare you off with random floating projectiles. It’s one of those things you never really picked up on when you were ten.

One thing’s for sure though, the situation leaves a lot of interesting possibilities open in the writing department.  

Which of the ghosts are malicious? Which are friendly? A lot of them are probably downright indifferent to what’s going on in the mansion so long as they have a place to stay.  Figuring out everyone's loyalties and motivations has been one of the most enjoyable parts of building this story.

Where to the twins fall into this? Well, as far as I can figure, those two just want attention from somebody, and Mario just happens to be the closest somebody around.


	8. House Cleaning

 

Beyond the locked door was just what the professor had said: a long, dark hallway.  
  
The passage stretched away into the murky distance, numerous etched doorways branching off to either side.  The wall-mounted candles were here too, running in even rows, casting little pools of dim, flickering light.  Luigi closed the entrance to the foyer behind him and waited, ready to face the next wave of ghosts, but for the first time in the evening, there really did seem to be nothing there.  After a few long moments, he clipped the Poltergust novel back into it's holster and reached for the Gameboy Horror.  
  
The study E. Gadd had pointed out flashed dully on the screen, a key shaped emblem spinning slowly in front of it.  It was the second right hand door in the hall; he made his way to it quickly and began coaxing lock, keeping one eye on the dark expanse to his left.  
  
After a few moments of fiddling, the door swinging inward with a low, deep throated creak.    
  
It was unexpectedly bright inside, washed over with the light of a fire nested in an old stone grate. The cracking of it filled the room, and the air wafting out at him was stiflingly hot.  For a moment Luigi considered leaving the door open to let in some fresh air, but the risk of something slipping in from the hall weighed too heavily on his mind for that.  
  
Cautiously, Luigi stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
His boots disappeared almost a full inch into the rug as he made his way forward, sinking into the thick, plush strands.  A massive, equally plush armchair was sitting immediately in front of the fire, and shelves of colorful cloth bound books covered the walls.  The massive, well stuffed desk crowding the right hand of the room was the only Indication that the place was study at all, rather than just a sitting room.  
  
Luigi kept his eyes peeled for fresh ghosts, but this room too seemed to be empty.  It was a bit easier to accept here given how bright the fire was, but the lights still  weren't working--a few tugs at the pull string lamp confirmed this--which gave him pause.  He waited a long moment just to be sure, then turned his attention to the contents of the desk.  
  
There was a perfect storm of papers slurred across its surface.  Some looked as old as the mansion itself, thin, yellow, and ragged, but there were many which were new.  Scrawling notes littered these fresh sheets, accented every once and again with doodles of contraptions ranging from rockets to some sort of outlandish pump.  Luigi could only assume these belonged to the professor.

He shuffled through them quickly, only reading what he needed for identification purposes.  They were hardly his business after all, and it didn't seem like there was anything that could help him.

There was one set of papers though, which was different from the rest.  They were in much better condition, carefully lumped together in a tidy stack.  Much of it was mathematical equations he didn't even bother with, what caught his attention though, were the pictures of ghosts doodled haphazardly on the third page. He recognized his orange friend and the purple punchers immediately, but there were many there he did not.  Luigi picked up the stack carefully, squinting at the notes in the beam of the flashlight.  The writing was particularly loose here, as if it had been written quickly, or very late at night.  Figures the only thing he needed to read was illegible.  
  
There was a rustling behind him.  
  
The sound was small, but in the quiet of the room, plenty loud enough to get his attention.  Luigi slapped the papers down on the desk and whipped around, just in time to be bludgeoned by a flying hardbound book.  
  
It wasn't that hard of a blow, but the shock of it was more than enough to send him tumbling against the desk.  There was a slosh from an old ink well and a clatter as the lamp fell into the mess of papers.  He looked frantically over the empty room, then behind him just in time to see the offending projectile loop upward towards the ceiling.  
  
He looked up.

Books were everywhere, flying books.  They were caught in some sort of loop against the roof, the gentle flapping of their pages blending seamlessly into the sound of the fire.  Every once and again one would fall, dipping almost into head smacking range, but something would catch it and pull it up, drawing it back into sync with the rest.  
  
Luigi stared in disbelief, pressing against the desk and out of the way of their dripping, falling dance.  That hadn't been there when he had come in had it?

He swept the room again, looking for anything else he had missed, but it was as empty as before.  Or was it?  Luigi squinted at the armchair, heart rate ticking up a notch or two.  There was a shadow hanging over it, shifting unnaturally in the light of the fire.  He fumbled out his flashlight and hovered it over the spot; the shadow intensified, rounding out against the back of the chair and the wall behind.  There was displeased moan.  
  
Luigi watched in horror as the shape of a man melted into existence, it's pale eyes squinting and head turned away from the beam.  Luigi jerked the light away, mentally debating the use of diving behind the desk.  The ghost rubbed it's eyes and began to look around the room, gaze eventually resting on the miserable man with something like a start.  It didn't make any move, just sat there and stared like some sort of startled animal.  There was something about the face, or more specifically the eyes; they were hollow and confused, as if the lights upstairs weren't working quite right.  
  
Another book fell on Luigi's head.  
  
He yelped and jarred to the side.  Another--this one most likely an encyclopedia--dropped to the floor only inches away.  One after the next more books began to follow this example.  Luigi shied towards the wall as they fell, bouncing like hail off the chair and desk, tumbling precariously close to the fire.  The ghost started to rise from it's chair, now thoroughly startled.  It couldn't seem to understand what was going on.  
  
Luigi chose that moment to dive forward  with the Poltergust.  
  
The ghost's body lurched as the suction caught it, and it howled.  Luigi was hit with resistance the likes of which he had never felt before.  He was pulled to the ground as the ghost bucked forward, and dragged yelping  towards the crackling grate.  At the last second the ghost swerved and Luigi was jerked to the left.  He dug in his heels and held tight to the nozzle, sliding headlong for the next bit of furniture.  Books baubled across the floor in an exhilaration, fanning their pages and doing everything they could to add to the chaos.  

Then it was over.  With one last howl, the ghost was sucked down into the machine.  The fallen lamp flicked on with an electric buzz.  
  
Luigi scrabbled to his feet and took a few uneven breaths.  After a moment he began to collect the fallen books, particularly those close to the fire, and set them shakily on the desk.  The stack of papers lay on the messy surface, looking a bit more ruffled than before.  Luigi still wanted to look over those, but not here.  After a brief moment of hesitation, he decided to take them with.  He could return them to the professor when he went back to the lab.  
  
He picked up the whole stack carefully; it seemed awfully awkward and heavy for some reason.  Luigi started to fold the papers in half along the preexisting creases, then froze as two small keys fell from between the pages.  He hesitated again then carefully pocketed the papers, picked up the keys, and left the room.  
  
The dark, cool hall seemed almost welcoming after the study.  Everything was quiet, and there were still no  signs of ghosts, so Luigi checked the new keys in the game boy horror.  A swirling loading symbol booted as the first key was slid into the niche, and he waited, tapping his foot a bit and casting the occasional glance down the dimly lit passage.  After a few moment of thinking, the screen switched back to the map, highlighting the next door over from this one.  
  
Luigi took a step in that direction without even bothering to try the second key, then froze and glanced down at the game boy horror again. There was an extra door between the study and the new room.  One that was most definitely not on the map.

It didn't make a whole lot of sense.  Luigi  didn't see how the professor could overlook a whole room, especially if he had been here as long as he said.  Yet there it was, bleak, old, and peeling, but very much real.  He reached out and tried the handle: it wasn't locked.  It opened smoothly to reveal a second, equally long hallway. Another thing that was most definitely not on the map.  
  
A fresh round of unease trickled through his system, and he shuddered. Of all the things there were to deal with right now, that did not need to be added to the list. He shut the door to the  offending passage,  stepped briskly to the next room, unlocked it and stepped inside.  
  
This chamber was a bedroom.

There was a horrible draft through the space, billowing the curtains at the far end of the room and plucking at the bedspread with playful fingers. Once again Luigi braced himself for an onslaught of ghosts, but again, it never came.

  
He took a deep, calming breath and looked over the room again, but still couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. There weren't may places to hide something out of the ordinary in here:  unlike the study, this room was rather bare.  There were signs that it had been better furnished once upon a time, light patches of  wallpaper were furniture had rested, but all that was left now was a bed, a night stand, and a cracked vanity next to the curtains.  
  
That was the strangest thing, to be honest.  He could catch glimpses of a shattered window behind the curtains as they blew.  It wasn't that a broken window in and of itself was odd, but he could have sworn there was more interior beyond this room, or at last, that's how the mystery hall made it seem.  Slowly, eyes and ears peeled for nasty surprises, Luigi made his was in that direction.  
  
The air coming through the window was cold and damp, curtains stained dark where rain had blown in.  The near side of the vanity was wet as well, and its warped surface suggested this hadn't been a one time occurrence.  Luigi caught the flowing curtains and pulled them aside.  Behind it was the remains of a double window, and a rooftop courtyard beyond.  
  
It was a small space, hemmed in on three sides by heavily windowed mansion walls.  There were a few chilled potted plants and the decrepit remains of a bench, but for the most part the space was dedicated to empty clothes lines.  
  
It actually made a lot more sense than Luigi had given it credit for.  He and Toadsworth had a long discussion about it ounce: how spots like this were used to let natural light into the castle.  Of course, they had been talking about Peach's castle at the time, but the same principles applied.  
  
The fourth side of the courtyard was a sort of fenced off  balcony, showcasing a motley black sky and a wooded sliver of yard.  That's where Luigi's eyes lingered the longest: there was something odd about the ground over there.  Things were scattered across it, oddly regular things. Some sort of stones maybe? A few of them could even be sculptures or... Oh heavens no.  
  
Luigi leaned out a little further, straining his eyes against the muffled moonlight.  The more he looked, the more certain be became.  He was looking at a graveyard.  
  
Perfect place for ghosts indeed.  A massive, gloomy castle with a honest to goodness graveyard in the back.  No wonder this place was so full of specters.  
  
Luigi shuddered and turned away from the window.  The whole thing was enlightening, but ultimately not very helpful.  There were drawers in the vanity and nightstand, he would check those, just to be thorough, and than move o-  
  
He choked and jerked backwards against the window.  Through the flailing cloth of the curtains he could make out the shape of another humanoid ghost.  She was coming right at him with one hand stretched out.  Her ethereal hair billowed around her lighter than air, eyes dark, expresion unfocused and confused.  
  
Luigi yelled and grabbed for the Poltergust.  There was a crash as the curtain rod was pulled to the floor.  The ghost shied at the noise and her eyes half focused, latching into his face in confusion as if she hadn’t noticed him before.  He pointed the vacuum nozzle and pulled the trigger.  
  
The ghost didn’t struggle like the last one.  She just hovered there looking shocked, wind stretching at her ghostly night dress, then disappeared down the tube.  Luigi leaned back and swallowed, bits of broken glass crunching under his boots. He should have never turned his back on the room. Never do that again…  
  
Luigi didn’t know how he was going to last a full night of this.  
  
Once the lights come on (and his heart stopped attacking his ribs), Luigi went on with his final check of the room.  The search resulted in two more keys from the vanity drawer, but that was it.

He took a moment to sort through the rest of his stash of keys as well.  It was turning into quite the collection, after all; he might as well take the time to see where they went.  It turned out it was a good idea too.  Only three in the bunch belonged to doors anywhere near here; the rest were flung across the four winds, peppered through every corner of the castle.  Luigi's knees began to feel funny as he scrolled through page after page of map.  Just how big was this place anyways?

He took a deep breath, navigated back to his current location, and pinpointed the nearest unlock-able door.  
  
The next two rooms were nothing special.  The first was another bedroom, only this one swarming with the familiar orange ghosts.  He was almost glad to see them again.  Almost.  A few minutes of vacuuming later they were gone, and that was that.  The second was a little harder to identify at first.  It was almost like a bathroom, but missing some things: it had two huge mirrors and a single wash basin, but that was it.  There were a few old shelves two, with things Luigi could only guess had been beauty products once.  It was also the nest of a rather nasty set of purple punchers.  Ultimately he he dubbed it the powder room, and once he was sure there was nothing to find there, left it behind.  
  
As things went on, Luigi was becoming increasingly unsettled.  There were numerous reasons for this, but what bothered him most, more than the ghosts or anything else, was the compleat lack of trace from Mario.  So far he had found nothing: no sound, no sign of his passing.  Not so much as one muddy boot print or evidence of a scuffles.  With every room he visited Luigi was growing more certain he had taken the wrong hall.  
  
Not that he had much choice in the matter, all the other passages were locked.  But that inconvenience didn't change the facts.  Any way you you sliced it, though, there was only one more chamber close by to which he had the key.  If that didn’t turn anything up, he was in for a long walk to the next door, if he could reach it at all.

If worse came to worse, there was always the mystery passage, but Luigi sincerely hopped it didn't come to that.  
  
The final room was a nursery.  It's walls were the cheeriest he had seen yet, blown over with a fountain of vintage flowers, all half faded with time.  Toys of all sorts stared down at him from shelves, or lay in hazardous heaps on the floor.  A roundabout of unraveling yoshi dolls spun idly over a crib.    
  
Luigi's expression set when he wasn't attacked right away.  He began to search the room, edging around it cautiously and keeping his back to the walls.  There was nothing in the crib or under it, the roof, floor, and shelves were clear, but he wasn't fooled.  If the lights were off, there was a ghost.  The question was, how to draw it out.  
  
Actually, that wasn't entirely true.  He had a pretty good guess on how to draw it out, he just wasn't keen on trying it.  Stupid mistakes were one thing, playing bait was completely another.  As the seconds dragged on though, it didn't seem like he had  much other option.  
  
There was a window in this room as well, this one facing the front lawn.  Luigi looked over the place one last time, then in the least suspicious way possible, faced it, turning his back on the room.  He didn't look at the lawn though, instead watched the reflection in the glass, waiting for the movement he was sure would come.  
  
He wasn't disappointed.  After a few nerve wracking seconds there was a shudder of blue over the crib.  
  
The ghost was shy it would seem, and didn't solidify all the way.  A moment later and the flicker disappeared.  Luigi realized he was holding his breath and began to breathe again, soft and natural as he could.  He made a show of inspecting the windowsill and curtains, eyes always on the reflections in the glass.  After a time the flicker came again, but not over the crib anymore.  The ghost had inched half way across the room, and was now slinking around the rocking horse.  
  
It was getting closer, and for all intents and purposes, was still invisible.  Enough was enough.  Luigi spun around, blasting the spot with his flashlight.  There was a sharp, shocked cry and a hunched little shadow was thrown across the floor.  
  
"That's not very nice!" said a high, very displeased voice.  There was a bubble of blue, and an equally displeased figure came into existence, hovering over the rocking horse.  
  
It was a baby.  He couldn't have been more than a year old.  
  
Luigi stepped back in shock.  The baby seemed to like this, and chirped out a giggle.  
"Are you here to play with me?" It asked, giving him a two-toothed, rather unsettling grin.  Luigi wasn't ready to talk to a ghost yet, but it didn't appear to matter.  The baby laughed again, and rose into the air, pulling a rattle from nowhere.  
  
As soon he began to shake it, the room went wrong.      
  
The rocking horse was the first to be affected.  It started to rock, slowly at first, then faster, until the sheer force of the motion started it inching across the floor.  Something was battering the inside of the toy box, trying desperately to get out, and the shelves on the walls shook with the stamp of marching tin soldiers, all their eyes fixed on Luigi as if looking for a way to reach him.  The stuffed animals had no such dilemma; they simply jumped into the air and started to fly, turning end over end as they hurdled in his direction.  
  
Luigi sidestepped the wind up car attacking his boots and ducked as a teddy bear went whizzing over his head.  The baby was suspended at the center of the chaos, laughing and shaking the life out of his rattle.  Luigi made a dart for him, Poltergust raised, then yelped as another animal slapped against the back of his head and stuck there like velcro, spongey paws pulling at his hair.  He made a futile attempt to get the thing off, then dodged to avoid an elephant, managing to step on the deranged car in the process.  He fell hard.  
  
The Poltergust canister didn’t soften the impact.  Luigi groaned and rolled off the thing, too dazed to care about much else at the moment.  Another set of animals latched onto him, the first clinging to his sleeve and the other two onto his overalls.  Only when he tried to get up again did he realize the latter had stuck to the rug as well, effectively locking him to the floor.  
  
That's when the chest crashed open.  
  
An enormous rubber ball flew out of it, flying straight for his face at terminal force.  Unable to do much else, he jerked up the Poltergust and flipped the switch.  In all honestly, Luigi wasn't expecting this to do much, the motion was becoming something of a reflex at this point, but somehow, miraculously, it actually worked.  The ball slammed into the nozzle hard and stuck there, rubber squelching under the suction.  
  
The baby gave an amused croon at his predicament.  It lowered to the ground crawled towards him with great purpose, still wearing that lack-toothed, malicious grin.  Luigi did the only thing he could think of immobile as he was: launch the ball.  
  
It hit the ghost right in the head, sending it tumbling backward.  There was a clatter as all the toys dropped to the floor, then all was quiet, accented by a few sniffles.  
  
Luigi stood up quickly, kicked the stuffed animals, car, and anything else in his vicinity away, then hesitated.  He knew he should charge, catch the ghost now, but he couldn't shake the feel it would be kicking the thing while it was down.  It was still just a baby for heaven's sake.  
  
He didn't get much time to ponder this moral dilemma.

Gradually the sniffles turned to fierce, enraged wails, and the ghost rose again into the air.  
“You’re a bully!” it yelled “A big bully!”  
  
Luigi clapped his hands over his ears, the creature's cries ripping apart the room.  The ground below it began to warp, then to slosh; an inky puddle devouring the floor, and tainting the air with a purple radiated glow.  Luigi's eyes widened and he reeled back, then ground to a stop and forced himself to charge.  He needed to deal with this situation right now, before it got any worse.  The puddle leapt forward to meet him. For an instant he saw it coming, tried to dodge out of the way, but it was too late. The blackness hit him in a cold wave, and he fell into nothing.  
  
It was one of the most bizarre things he had ever felt: one moment he was on solid ground, the next he wasn't, falling in slow motion through a twisting abyss.  Then he hit the ground again and bounced.  
  
Luigi staggering on the unsteady surface, staring around him in a frenzy.  The world was distorted and tinged with purple, pillars of white towering over him on all sides.  He was in a cage, an open topped cage with a springy floor.  What had the ghost done?  Where was he?

There was an angry scream and the baby rose into view outside of his prison, rattle in hand.  He was enormous, now two or three times Luigi's size.  Beyond him, Luigi could make out an enlarged version of the nursery...  Then he understood.  
  
He was in the crib.  He was in the crib, and he was in serious trouble.

• • •

  
Comet had warned Novi there were weird things off world; that once you went through 'the doors' everything was up for grabs, and anything could happen.  Despite this, she was having a hard time processing the fact that she was following a ghost.  Because Novi was pretty darn sure that's what the woman was by now: an honest to goodness, back from the other side ghost.

The woman bobbed ahead in a determined float, baskets of linen pressed into her hip.  Her keen eyes swept the hall as she walked, watching the shadows in a business-like, if a bit nervous way.  Novi followed behind at a cautionary distance, her own wad of blankets in one arm and the backpack slung over the other, watching the woman with interest.     
  
It wasn't the first time the term 'ghost' had crossed her mind this evening.  She had been thinking of the other creatures as ghosts for quite a while.  That was mostly out of convenience, though.  They floated, glowed, and generally behaved as you would expect a bed sheet verity ghost to behave, but when it came down to it, she had been sure--and was still sure--that they were just a local creature of some sort, and not something that had...  Died.  
  
She wasn't human either, but something about the fullness of her form suggested she had once been solid.  Her figure was small and slight--quite a bit smaller than Novi, which was pretty impressive--and built for walking not floating.  She even had a pair of wispy feet, which was a first occurrence as far as the creatures in this place went. There was some sort of cap on her head instead of hair, a soft looking, puffy thing speckled over with spots of dark space.  A string of the same stuff strayed out behind in a row of spotted beads, rather like a pony tail.

All in all, she really did look like a humanoid mushroom, and it made an unsettling amount of sense. Comet had told Novi the people of this country were mostly mushrooms.  
  
Novi's hanging behind seemed to make the woman uncomfortable at first.  There were a few awkward minutes were she kept on slowing down so Novi could catch up.  Whenever this happened they would both end up frozen, the pause becoming quite awkward as Novi refused to come any closer.  After a while, the ghost gave up on that sort of thing, but she continued to glance over her shoulder every once and again, to make sure Novi was still there.    
  
Fortunately for both of them, the jaunt through the halls wasn't a long one.  Before long they found themselves standing in front of another door.

  
There was a strange sound coming from inside as they approached it: a rumbling, splattering sound, like a broken pump.  Uneasiness jumped up in Novi’s stomach, and she looked to the ghost.  The ghost looked more concerned than she did.  Next moment, the woman had dropped the basket and darted through the wall without even sparing her a glance.

Novi hesitated, then tried the door handle.  It wasn't locked, so she pushed it open a crack.  What she found inside was rather a strange sight.  
  
The ghost woman was just inside the door, stiff and staring over the room.  The room started right back, or more specifically it’s occupants did.  Ghosts were everywhere.  There were dozens of them: peeking from between the shelves and under the stools, hiding between the cloths lines stretched across the room.  The majority of them, though, were clustered around the stone vat imbedded in the ground.  The one that was currently overflowing.  
  
Every one of the pack hung still in the air, staring at the woman in shock.  The thunder of the spigot filled the room, whomping off the stones in wet, spray filled tremors.  Water ran in torrents over the floor, erupting mountains of suds sliding with it.  
  
Every so slowly, the ringleader ghost tipped the last of a box of soap flakes into the vat.  
  
"rrrahhhh!" The woman shouted, making a dart for the cloths lines. "Get out! Shoo!"  
Instantly the room erupted into chaos.  Ghosts flew every which way, shrieking in terror.  Laundry shook from the lines into the floor, water splattered, and wreaths upon wreaths of bubbles swirled in the air, catching the lights of the ghosts in a multicolored, wildly spinning storm.  Then it was over and all the ghosts were gone, leaving behind a bubbly mess and Novi's very cross, fervently glowing guide.  
  
"Honestly..." the woman grumbled.  
  
She turned off the overflowing vat and began picking up laundry off the floor, then looked up to see Novi in the doorway.  
"Oh, I'm sorry dear.  You can come in now."  
Novi hung back for a moment longer, then stepped softly forward.  The ghost passed her a wrinkly, kind old smile, and continued her work.  
  
The room was a small one, dimly lit by a few candles mounted on the walls.  There were more candles scattered around, waxy towers of them melted to five or six stools across the floor, but the stools were tipped at the moment, and the candles drowned  in standing water.  The dim shape of wall mounted shelves lurked in and out of the remaining candle light, as well as the outline of one, maybe two dressers.  Clothes lines claimed the far end of the room, a few lucky articles of linen still clinging to them.  Beyond this, up against the wall and obscured by clouds of bubbles was a stair leading away into the ceiling.  In the other far corner, opposite the stairs, lay a pair of large, boxy shapes Novi couldn't identify.  
  
Novi dropped her arm-load of gear in a dry corner and joined the ghost collecting linen off the floor.  
"Thank you darling." Said the woman in a breathless kind of way. "You're very sweet."  
She rolled back onto her little heels and inspecting a soiled table cloth sadly.  
"Would you be a dear and open the door at the top of the stairs?"  
"Of course." Said Novi.  
  
Novi added the few things she had collected into the woman's pile and wove her way to the narrow, crooked stairwell.  The bubbles were thick up there, drawn by a faint draft coming from the top.  Novi kept her head low and her mouth shut tight until she reach a pair of ill fitting wooden doors.  They were the  'flat to the ground' type, like the ones that lead to old fashioned cellars.  She flipped the little latch that held them closed and with some difficulty, pushed them up and open.

A storm of bubbles rushed past into the night, rising up into the shredding veil of clouds.  It didn’t seem to be raining anymore, but the air was still damp and very chilly.  She got a glance of a murky rooftop courtyard strung over with more clothes lines, then retreated back down the stairs with a shiver.    
  
The woman had made good progress since Novi had been gone.  All the laundry had been gathered up, and the vat--which had been drained to a reasonable level of fullness--was bobbing full of colorful cloth.  All the stools had been propped up as well, and those with candles relit, filling the room with warm, sleepy light.  Most of the bubbles were gone now too, or at least going, floating past Novi up the stairs and out into the night.  
  
The ghost was now standing by one of the odd boxy shapes, her original basket of table cloths back at her hip.  Now there was more light, it was all too obvious what it was: a washing machine.  There the thing stood, a drier placed by it's side, both glinting proudly and looking obnoxiously out of place.  Novi watched in utter confusion as the woman loaded the last placemat into it and started the wash sequences, filling the room with the low hum of the machine.  She dusted her hands off on her apron, set down the basket, and watched the clouds of drifting bubbles in a satisfied way before spotting Novi.  
  
"My goodness, do you always skulk around like that?" She asked, after doing a double take.  
"Sorry," Said Novi quietly, and stepped down into the room again.  
  
"It's alright dear. I suppose it's pardonable given the circumstances, but there's really no need to be so unsettled."  
"I'm not unsettled."  
"Don't fib, dear, it's not becoming.  Though I suppose you could mean your only a little unsettled..."  
  
The was a short silence.  The woman looked her up and down then sighed.  
"You're all over mud..." She said gently. "And in those clothes I almost mistook you for a boy.  I'm sure I would have if it weren't for that lovely hair..."  
  
Novi glanced down at the floor and rubbed at the smear on her forehead.  
"I- was going to go down to the ocean tomorrow, but it was too late tonight."  
"What are you even doing here?"  
"Trying to getting out of the rain.  I’m sorry, it didn't look like anybody lived here from the outside..."  


The woman gave her another soft smile.

"It’s no trouble at all dear.  I'm not surprised, considering the shamble the place has gone to; I can't do everything on my own after all.  But you're quite welcome here, very welcome.  Only you have to be careful in the halls these days..."  
  
Novi gave a solum, knowing nod.  
  
"But how did you get here?" Asked the woman, a concerned twist coming across her expression.  
Novi hesitated at this.  The most accurate answer would be that she had flown, but she couldn't say that.  She didn't want to outright lie, though, either.  
"I road," she said finally, hoping that was an acceptable answer.  
"On your own?" asked the woman, voice hitching up a couple of octaves.

Novi was quiet again.  
  
Apparently the woman took the lack of answer as a yes, and her frosty eyes had grown large with disbelief.  
"A lovely girl like you in the woods at night; didn't your mother ever tell you never to do such a thing?  Don't you have a father, a brother, or suitor?  Anyone who could have come with you?"  
"I wasn't on my own."  
"Then where is you're guardian?  Where is he now?"  


The woman’s tone suggested she thought Novi was fibbing again, a notion Novi didn’t really appreciate.

"He's outside." She answered firmly.

The woman looked shocked for a moment, and more than a little incredulous.  Then a slow look of understanding stole over her face.  
"Yoshi's don't count, dear." She said very gently.  


Novi blinked in confusion, not sure what to say to that.  
  
"You poor girl, it explains everything," Said the woman in a soft, sad tone. "Riding alone at night indeed, and in this weather.  You're wet through, and went without dinner no doubt, and I don't have a thing to give you..."  
The woman bustled off, fretting the whole way.  At first Novi tried to stop her, correct whatever ideas she had gotten into her head, but the woman hardly noticed, and eventually Novi fell into awkward silence.  

After a short time the ghost came back again, holding a bucket of clean, warm water, a washcloth, and a fresh nightgown from somewhere in the room.  
"Get washed up and changed while I make a place for you,"  She said, pushing the things at Novi.  "I don't have a bed, but you'll be safest here. I'll be sure to make you comfortable."  
  
Novi took the bucket and washcloth without hesitation, but her hand hovered uncertainty over the dress.  
"It's quite clean and very soft," said the woman, "You can't sleep in your damp things, you'll wake up ill.  Besides, they need a wash before morning."  
"What if I run into more..." Novi trailed off, unsure if 'ghosts' was a good term to use given the current company.  
"The Bogies?"  Offered the woman.  
"Those..." Said Novi.  
"You needn't worry about them.  They'll leave you be so long as I'm here."  
  
Eventually, Novi took the cloths as well and ducked away into a corner to change.

The women kept herself busy making a bed of sheets and blankets until she returned.

"Now that's more like it," Said the woman with a smile.

Novi did look quite a bit better with the mud off her face and in the fresh, lacy nightgown.  She felt better too, and much more comfortable.  Though she did slip to the baskets of folded linen once the woman had taken her old clothes, looking for something to wear under the dress.  There was always the chance she would need to do more running...

  
It didn't take her long to find something suitable: a pair of puffy cotton pants, even if they were a little big, but that wasn't the only thing of interest she found though.  Resting on top of one of the baskets was another bit of clothing, something that clearly didn't belong. 

It was just a hat, but the style was out of place. The color was bright and unfaded, and the stitching had most definitely not been done by hand.  There was a bright ‘M’ embroidered across it’s front.

"What’s this?" Asked Novi quietly.

The woman paused in sweeping puddles of water down the drain and looked back at her.  
"A hat.  I found it on the floor in the halls.”

"Tonight?"

The woman nodded and continued her sweeping. "It was the strangest thing.  I’m sure it's not the professors, so I can't say where it came from.” The woman stopped again and glancing up with something akin to concern.

“It wouldn't be yours would it?"  
"No," Said Novi quietly.  
"Oh good," The woman said, sounding relieved. “I could hardly imagine you in such a thing…”

  
Novi reached down, picked up the hat, and turned it over a few times, inspecting it’s every detail.  Something about it made her intensely uneasy, though she couldn't put her finger on why.

“It’s nothing to fret about," said the woman.  She set down the broom and came to stand by her side.

"Maybe the professor brought it here to entertain the twins, naughty boys, but it's nothing to worry about.  Why don't you come over here and rest a bit?  There's a dear."  


Reluctantly, Novi did what she was told, still holding the hat in her hands.  The woman watched her with a slight bit of concern, but thankfully didn’t say anything more.  Novi nestled into the pile of blankets, placed her back against the wall and stared at the hat, trying to puzzle out why it was so important in her mind.  The harder she looked at it though, the further the concept slipped away. 

Slowly but surely the exhaustion caught up with her again, and she began to drift.  It wasn't Novi's intention to fall asleep, but ultimately that's what she did.

* * *

 

Notes:

Finally, finally done with chapter eight.  It took me longer than I would have liked, but what else is new?

I think half my problem is the fact that these chapters just keep getting bigger.  Every time I finish a new one I vow to shorten the next, yet somehow it never seems to happen.  I’ve done some brainstorming on the point, and the only consistently way I see to shorten things is to make each character perspective it’s own chapter.  I don’t care for what that does to the flow of the story, though; I pair up the events in a chapter to create contrasts and parallels, something that gets lost if everything is broken up.  On the other hand, shorter segments would make the story less intimidating to read, and hopefully speed up update times quite a bit. I’m not sure what to do about the situation.  What do you guys think?


	9. Lucky Stars

 

__

 

   Luigi staggered to the side of the crib, gripping the bars in the last moments he had before his knees gave out.  He had done it.  He had beat him, sucked the ghost into the Poltergust.  
  
    Slowly the frenzic, biting panic left him and he slid down on the cushions, utterly drained.  He didn’t even have the energy to wonder how he was to get out of here. As it turned out, though, he didn’t have to worry about that.  
  
   Gently he felt the bars begin to melt between his fingers. When he opened his eyes he found himself once again on the nearsury floor. The lights were on.  
  
   Luigi didn’t do much with this information, just slumped all the way down and rolled over, sinking deep into the rug and staring vaguely at the star-painted ceiling. The Gameboy Horror began to blare from inside his pocket. He was too exhausted to be startled; he sat up slowly, fished the device out, and flipped on the screen.  
  
    “-an you hear me, lad?” the professor asked.  His face was drawn and full of concern. “Are you alright?”  
    “I’m alive,” answered Luigi.  
    “Good,” said the professor, heaving a massive sigh. “I was right worried there for a moment. One second you were wandering into the nearsury, next thing’s next the system’s screamin’ about a monster of a ghost and the whole thing goes to static.”  
    “Well, there was a ghost in here. I’m not sure what it did…” Luigi started, then trailed off as he realised he didn’t have anything else to say.  
  
   The professor gave another long sigh. “Well that’s that I suppose, and you seem to be in one piece. You aren’t hurt are you?”  
  
   Luigi closed his eyes and gave a weak shake of his head.    
  
   “Just tuckered out then, I suppose. Don’t worry, lad, anybody would be wiped out after a fight with Chancy. He may be a little tyke, but I can tell you first hand he can pack a punch.”  
  
    _Chancy._  
  
    Luigi’s eyes flicked open and he stared. The professor knew the ghost, knew it by name. How could he not? He had been here for years studying them, after all. E. Gadd had known all along the kind of monster Luigi was walking in on, and he’d hardly given a word of warning.    
  
   As usual on went the professor, oblivious to the look plastered over Luigi’s face.  
    “I’ll tell you what: how about you come back to the lab for a bit, take five, and I’ll clean out the Poltergust tank?”  
  
   Luigi pushed himself up onto his feet again. You know what? Maybe that was a good idea. He had a few questions he wanted to ask the professor.

  * • •



  
   The boy was turning out to be a bit difficult to keep up with. Mario followed as best he could, limping behind and casting every third glance over his shoulder. The ghost darted forward like a fish, bouncing around the corridor and in and out of the walls like they didn’t exist.  He did stop every once and again so Mario could catch up, though, glancing up and down the passages while he waited and making a show of being watchful. That was the only reason Mario hadn’t totally lost him by now.  
  
   Another problem Mario was having involved the boy’s odd tendency to double back on himself. He would rush down a hall with full gusto only to come barreling back without warning.  He had actually run into Mario on one of these occasions, or more specifically, run right through him.  
  
   The situation had scared Mario more than he cared to admit, but after the fact he was glad it happened. If the boy wanted to harm him that would have been the time to do it, but he hadn’t; the sensation was chilly, and maybe a bit tiring, but not blatantly harmful like a touch from the other ghosts. And it wasn’t even comparable to the horrible bite of the butler.  The boy himself had been horrified. He had apologized profusely, terrified that Mario would send him away. It had taken quite a bit of effort to get him to calm down again. All in all, it had set Mario more at ease with his new companion than anything else probably could.  
  
   But the potential of getting run into--though still something Mario wanted to avoid--wasn’t the reason the ghost’s behavior bothered him. The boy was navigating the halls like a minefield, and it made Mario wonder how many dangers in this place he just couldn’t see.  It was possible the boy was overplaying things a bit, but given the circumstances, Mario wasn’t about to take that chance. As crooked as the path was, he followed the ghost’s every move.  
              
   There was something else interesting about his new guide as well: the longer he watched the more he realized that there actually were two of them, and he was positive they were twins. When one boy would disappear through a wall and the other would dart out to take his place.  At first it was the clothes that had tipped Mario off--their shirts were different cuts and ever so slightly different colors--but slowly he had began to pick up on other differences as well.  It was extremely subtle but they were there, slight variations in the way they moved and spoke.  
  
   He couldn’t help but grin at the notion, though the situation struck another cord as well, a significantly less pleasant one. Maybe it was that it hit just a bit too close to home, but it made Mario more desperate than ever to get his situation under control.  It couldn’t be much longer until Luigi showed up. If he wasn’t here already.  
  
   After a fair period of mucking about, the boy’s pace began to slow. At first Mario wondered why, until he recognized the hall as the one the crooked ghost occupied. He slowed his pace too at that point, heckles up and senses on high alert.

   The boys stuck very close to him now, both of them. The offending passage came and went, but they didn’t seem any more at ease. They watched every corridor they passed with intense, anxious expressions. Periodically one the boys would drift ahead to check around corners. It was hard to tell whether these precautions were for Mario’s safety or their own, but any way you sliced, it they really did seem shaken up.      
  
   Suddenly the boy ahead whipped back around a corner, grimacing horribly and giving all sorts of strange gestures. The other boy took one look at the situation and with a frantic glance at Mario retreated back down the hall, diving into a shadowed nook a short distance away. Mario backed slowly into the same spot, eyes locked on the passage ahead.  
  
    A moment later the other ghost joined them.  
    “Is it Shivers?” Asked the first boy.  
    “No, it’s Melody. She’s out of her room.”  
    “Is Shivers there too?”  
    “No!”  
  
    Mario shushed them as loudly as he dared, and the bickering dropped to silence. He placed his back to the wall and slowly and carefully peeked into the hallway. A shadow was playing over the wallpaper from around the corner. Not the spindly shadow but a flowing, graceful one. It drifted aimlessly, twirling in almost a dance. If Mario listened closely he could have sworn he heard her humming and maybe singing to herself.    
  
    “Is she still there?” asked the boys when he drew back.  
    Mario put a finger to his lips.  
  
    After a long moment, the song from up the hall trailed to nothing. When Mario checked again the shadow was gone.  
  
    He was far from relieved. Mario scanned the passage both ways, tracking it up and down for movement. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if the ghost was still there, just waiting for them to come out of hiding. But he could see nothing. The boys watched him anxiously, and when he didn’t draw back right away, poked around the corner themselves. Cautiously, Mario stepped back into the passage, waving for them to follow.      
  
    They did follow, and after a moment of hesitation, one of them vanished from sight. Mario watched as his shadow flitted to the bend in the passage and disappeared around the corner.   After a moment the boy came back, poking through one of the walls. He looked serious, but relieved.  
    “She’s gone to her room,” he said. “I heard her playing piano again.”  
    “What about shivers?” said the other boy.  
    “He’s not there.”  
    “He wasn’t the other way either, though, in the halls or the rooms. Where else could he be?”  
    “I don’t know, but he’s not here now. Let’s just get going before Melody comes back.”  
  
    And they were off.  
  
    As soon as they were clear of ‘Melody’ their pace picked up again, and Mario was back to his haphazard trot. Drastic changes began to take place in the hallways from that point on. They grew broader and began to take on a more polished sheen.  The second boy had taken control of the situation now, leading the way in a more straightforward fashion. The first boy took a place more or less at Mario’s side, continuing his energetic watchfulness and keeping tabs on his limp.  
  
    “Are you still doing okay, mister?” he asked.  
    Mario chuckled. “I’m fine. And my name is Mario; you don’t have to call me mister.”  
    “Oh. Well, I don’t mind. But I can call you Mario if you like it better.”  
    “What’s your name?”  
    “I’m Henry, and he’s Orville,” the ghost said.    
    There was a short silence.  
  
    “How did you wind up in this place anyways?” Henry asked somewhat cautiously.    
  
    Mario sighed and began the long explanation of how this had come about: everything from the appearance of the mysterious flier to a glossed over version of the fight and his escape (no need to scare the boy after all). Henry listened wide eyed.  
  
    “Wow,” he said when it was all over.  
  
    “But… why?” asked Orville, who had drifted closer to catch the story. “Are you a friend of the professor’s or something?”  
  
    Mario shook his head. “I’d never even heard of him before now.”  
    The boy looked confused. “But, if you don’t know the professor I don’t see why the boos should be after you like that.”  
    “I don’t either,” said Mario, and it was true.  
  
    He had never tangled with King Boo before, and the king had never shown any interest in the Mushroom Kingdom as far as he knew.  Any ghosts Mario had ever fought were either casual troublemakers--who usually packed off when they realized he would put up a fight--or boos under the direct control of Bowser. The one time he had dealt with an actual clan of boos had gone remarkably well (all things considered), and he and the boos had parted on surprisingly good terms. Mario couldn’t see how the king could be angry about any of that.

    And as malicious as the king was he didn’t seem to hate, or even appear to be particularly angry with him; something Mario would have expected if this was a revenge plot. He couldn’t for the life of him figure the situation out. But ultimately it didn’t matter.  
  
    “How did you two end up here?” Asked Mario when the lull in conversation began to drag.  
    “We’ve been here a while,” answered Henry. “We used to live in an old house by the Evershade Valley, but then the professor invited us here.”  
    “Was that a long time ago?”  
    “Oh, ages and ages. The professor even had hair back then.”  
  
    Mario laughed outright at this, then became solemn as the implications sunk in.  
  
    “No, don’t worry about it,” said Henry, almost frantically. “It’s not that bad being like this, at least not anymore. And we’re not on our own now either; we’ve got the professor to talk to, and the other ghost are nice.  
  
    “Except the ones that try to kill you.”  
    
    Henry pulled a face. “Yeah, they’re pretty bad. But they aren’t even supposed to be here, you know; the professor kept them locked up. Then King Boo came and let them all lose…”  
  
    Mario pocketed this information readily; another clue to just what was going on around this place.  
  
    “What else can you tell me about the professor?” he asked.  
    “I don’t know,” answered the boy with a shrug. “He’s short and bald and crazy. Not like the ghosts are crazy, but still crazy.”  
    “A bit too interested in dead people,” chipped in Orville.  
    “Do you know where he is?”  
    “Not a clue. I think he’s still at one of his other labs,” said Henry.  
    “No he’s not,” said Orville. “The cameras all started working again, remember? That’s why the boos killed all the power?”

    “Cameras?” asked Mario.  
    “Yeah, cameras,” said Henry, pointing at the ceiling. “There are a lot of them around here. The professor likes keeping an eye on things, you know? Anyways, they started wiggling around a few days ago. The boos smashed a few of them but were afraid they wouldn’t be able to find them all, so they did something to the power. That doesn’t have to mean he’s here, though,” he said. This bit was obviously meant for Orville.  
  
    “Do you have any idea what they did to the power?” asked Mario, before Orville could come up with a retort.  
  
    Orville gave Henry a flat look then turned his attention back to Mario. “I’m not really sure. Some sort of bind I think. I do know it’s attached to ghosts, though. The mansion ghosts mostly, but us too. It’s really annoying, and it kind of makes you tired.”    
    “But if that’s how it works then getting rid of the ghosts should turn on the lights, right?”  
    “Well it should, I don’t see why it wouldn- wouldn’t…”  
  
    Orville trailed off, a look of horror crossing over his face. Mario had seen that kind of look enough times to know there was something behind him. He dodged to the left and darted forward, whipping around to face his enemy.    
  
    His heart sank. It was the crooked ghost again.  
  
    The butler was a terrifyingly short distance away, towering over all of their heads like some sort of twisted spider and looking with utter annoyance at Orville.  
    “You little…” it hissed.  
    The boy started to drift backward, looking faint.  
  
    “Look out! Run!” Shouted Henry, but it was too late for that option. The butler charged.  
  
    Mario dove between the two and pivoted, presenting his good side to Shiver’s onslaught. This time the ghost didn’t falter; it rushed him strait on, and when the blast of fire came, ducked through the wall. Next moment it had repeated, this time behind him.  
  
    Mario whipped around as soon as he realized what had happened, but he wasn’t fast enough. The creature was already swinging at him with one long arm. The blow hit hard and solid, sending Mario tumbling into the opposite side of the passage. He scrambled to get up again, but the ghost was on top of him already, bearing him down against the wall.  
  
    There were a pair of high pitched squeals and the twins threw themselves at Mario’s attacker. They grabbed onto the butter, dragging him back as far as they could. Shivers screamed something unintelligible and lashed out at them. The boys darted away again;  Orville made it through a wall in time but Henry wasn’t so lucky. He took a hard smack and went flying end over end down the hall.  
  
    Mario had had enough of this thing.  
  
    “Hey!” He shouted, launching toward it. The ghost turned, glowering down at him from its absurd height, just in time to take an inferno to the face.  
  
    There was a second in which Shivers was too startled to react. He reeled back, fluttering away from the blast in mute hysteria, and then he started to shriek. The sound was long and head-splittingly loud.  Mario kept the attacks coming, pounding at him again and again with raging bursts. The ghost thrashed away and tried to dart through the wall, but apparently forgot to turn ethereal, and bounced off. After a few moments of flopping it opted for the most straightforward method of escape, careening around a corner and vanishing into the maze of halls, shrieking all the while.  
  
    As soon as Mario was sure the butler wasn’t going to come back, he rushed for Henry. Orville was already there, pulling him out of a large vase he was half merged into.  
  
    “Are you alright?” asked Mario.  
  
    Henry floated upright again, shook his head to clear the fluff, and beamed. He started to say something, but it was cut short by a wave of chattering from down the passage.  
  
    Mario’s stomach clenched.  
  
    Boos.  
  
    Without thinking he grabbed hold of both the boys and pulled them to another alcove leading off the hall. There was an armchair nestled in this one, and Mario ducked behind it still pulling the boys with him. It wasn’t a moment too soon.  
  
    Hardly had they taken cover when no less than twelve boos flooded into the hallway, some coming from up the passage, others filtering in through the walls,  filling the place with their noise and a misty white glow. Most of them kept right on going, tearing after the wailing butler, but a few of them stopped not far away, apparently at the scene of the scuffle, chittering among themselves.  
  
    “Quiet!” hissed one, slicing through the excitement. “He can’t have gotten far, not how he is now. You, catch up with the others, for pity's sake shut them up and send them back this way. Then find that butler and see if you can get any sense out of him. You, lock down the fake doors then tell the king what we've found. The rest of you, with me. We’ll head him off at the blocked passages."  
  
    There were a few chirps as the groups acknowledged their orders, and the boos disappeared as quickly as they had come.

    There was silence.  
  
    Nevertheless the group stayed crouched behind the chair, listening. The boys were so faint they were hardly visible, and Mario’s expression was deathly grim.  
  
    "Are they- are they gone?" Asked Henry in the softest of whispers.  
  
    Nobody answered, and nobody seemed inclined to check. After a moment Mario started to rise, but Orville shook his head.  
    "I'll go see," He said then vanished from sight before anyone could complain.  
  
    "There're gone," came his voice from the hallway.  
  
    Slowly and cautiously, Mario stood up and stalked back into the hall. It was dark, bleak and empty. Orville was floating just around the corner, looking anxiously down the passage the boos had taken.  
  
    "I've got to go," he said quickly, "If they head that way and find our room empty... I'm- sorry." He said, looking at Mario.  
  
    Mario's grim expression stayed, but he nodded.  
    "Thank you for your help."  
  
    "But I'm staying," said Henry firmly. "If the boos ask just tell them we're playing hide and seek or something."  
  
    Orville hesitated, then gave something between a shrug and a shudder. "Okay. I'll come back and find you guys as soon as I can."  
    "And we'll be coming that way shorty," said Mario.  
    "Okay," Orville said again, vanished, and flitted away.  
  
    "How much farther do we have to go?" Asked Mario when his shadow had disappeared down the halls.  
    "Not far..." answered Henry.  
    "How far is not far?"  
    "Just- just at the end of this passage. Up at the top of the tower."  
Mario nodded and started to walk again.  
  
    Alcoves became more frequent as they proceed down the passage. They were bigger too, some draped over with curtains and most all of them furnished with luxurious chairs, reading tables, and an occasional dead, cracked lamp. Before long the hall widened out again, giving way to an open chamber. It was a library.  
  
    Mario and Henry slowed when they reached it, sticking close to the wall and hiding in the deep shadows at the mouth of the hallway. There were ghosts in that room, mansion ghosts mostly and one portrait ghost sinking around the lower shelves, but no boos that they could see. The portrait ghost didn't stay long, just took a few books and drifted away. As soon as it was gone Henry darted forward into the room, scattering most of the mansion ghosts in his wake. Mario followed behind.  
  
    The library was huge, with layer upon layer of scantily filled, wall-mounted bookcases. A spiral stair filled the center of the room, branching off into scaffolding around the high layers of shelves, leading off to different levels of the castle, and finally disappearing into the high distance of a tower.  
  
    Mario slowed again as he got a better look at the room. The base of the stairs was directly in front of him; he... was on the ground floor. It made no sense, he’d been on at least the third level last time he checked, and he hadn’t gone down more than one flight of steps since then...  
  
    Henry waved at him from the center of the room and Mario shook those thoughts away. It didn’t matter.  


    “The observatory’s all the way at the top,” he said as Mario approached.

    Both of them looked up the center of the spiraling steps.

    “It’s a long way up…”

    “I’ll manage,” said Mario reassuringly.

    “And there’s nowhere to hide up there…”

    “We’ll just have to make it quick then.”

    The climb was largely uneventful. There was no trouble from the mansion ghosts (thanks to Henry), and accepting two which drifted obliviously by on the ground floor, no boos. Despite his assurances, Mario’s pace did slow as they continued to climb. But he kept on, ignoring the growing dark patches on the white of the bandages. Henry hovered around him in anxious little circles, keeping an eye on thing and making faces at any mansion ghosts who got a too interested in the situation.

    At long last the stair ended in a small, blue painted door. Henry knew exactly which key was needed to open it; he pointed it out off the ring, and Mario let himself in.

    The observatory was a small room: round, the ceiling sloping away into a traditional cone-shaped spire. Most of the floor was dedicated to a large, round table over which was carved and painted a detailed map of the heavens. Across the stone walls were a plethora of window shutters and a single, star etched door. These had been painted a cheering shade of blue as well, but the colors was faded now and the paint was peeling. Many of the shutters hung open or had fallen off entirely, revealing a half clouded night sky and leaving the room at the mercy of the elements.

    Maps, charts, and graphs littered the corners in wind blown heaps or clung with a wish and a prayer to the most sheltered portions of the walls. There were telescopes as well; bulky, metal cased, tripod mounted ones covered over with knobs and handles. They rested in a ring around the edge of the room, pointed at the windows. Those near windows where the shutters had fallen were weather stained and dark with rust, but the few graced with more sheltered positions still shone a faint bronze.    

    “It’s in here somewhere,” said Henry, and began to poke around the chamber. Mario looked as well, somewhat stiffly, sticking close to the ghost to take advantage of his blue glow. The initial search turned up nothing, though, just mounds of moldering, soggy paper.

    “The professor said it kind of wanders…” said Henry, casting a worried glance at Mario.

    Mario just nodded. That sort of thing wasn’t unusual; unless a star very much liked its position they tended to do that. Nonetheless, he was certain the star was in this room. He could hear it.

    Well, hear wasn’t quite the right word. Stars didn’t make any sound, per say, at least according to most people. Nevertheless he could sense them. It was like a glow or buzz; a ringing in the ears, but friendlier. Mario had given up trying to tell people about it, but the crux of the matter was he could hear them, and there was definitely a star in the tower. The question was, where was it hiding.

    Mario circled the chamber again, this time slowly, trying to narrow down a general location.

    “I think its over here,” he said, eyes sweeping over a corner of wall. The more he stared the more he was sure it was the spot, but he couldn’t see anything, just a few musty papers huddled under the legs of a telescope. Was it outside somewhere? On the balcony maybe? Mario turned to investigate that option but froze as Henry grabbed hold of his arm.

    “There it is!’ said the ghost in an excited whisper.

    Mario tuned back to look at him than to the spot he was pointing. The star was hovering at ground level, pressed against the wall behind the telescope and half buried in wet paper. Mario blinked. It hadn’t been there moments before… But never mind.

    Henry hung back as Mario approached it. He reached a hand out slowly, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. It was obvious from the star’s dim glow that it was trying to hide. The star made an aggressive dart for his hand as it drew near, and Mario froze, sincerely hoping it didn’t try to shock him.

    But it didn’t. It stopped its charge at the edge of his outstretched fingers, where it hovered curiously. Slowly its shallow glow began to increase, and it floated into the palm of his hand.

    Cautiously, Mario drew the star away from its hiding spot. He could still sense its hesitation, though it had shown him this much trust. He waited patiently for it to decide if it liked him or not. Mario was sure it would come around; he had yet to encounter a power star that hadn’t--though he had been shocked a few times--and this one was no exception. After a few moments it began to glow in earnest. Mario felt its power rush through him in a wave. The relief was instantaneous, all his tiredness and pain melting away like so much ice on the kitchen floor. As wonderful as it felt, Mario pushed it away. Not yet, he needed to wait for the opportune moment. The star accepted his instructions and the light began to fade, leaving him ragged again.

    ‘Just a bit longer,’ he thought to himself.

    Gently he tucked the star into his pocket, smiled at Henry, and turned back towards the stairs.

* * *

 

Notes:

Two things to say about this chapter.

The first  is the belated announcement that I have seriously altered the layout and shape of the mansion for this story. You know, in case people haven’t noticed already. I just thought I’d say that officially since there are no spires in the original layout, and I want to be clear that I’m not talking about somewhere on the roof when I say ‘the tower’.

The second concerns Mario’s ‘sixth sense’.

So, in the Mario games based around collecting stars: Mario 64, Super Mario Sunshine, and I’m pretty sure in Mario Galaxy as well (though I’d need to double check that one) you can hear the stars when you get close to them. The odd thing is, nobody else seems to realize they’re there, despite the racket they’re making. Maybe the other characters are just oblivious. Or maybe they legitimately can’t hear them.

Mario has something of an aptitude for stars, after all. As do Luigi, Peach, and Bowser it would seem. What if these characters are the only ones that can hear that sparkly aura we are all so familiar with? It’s part of being ‘star-chosen’ I suppose. Anyways, that’s what I was getting at with the ringing in the ears thing.


	10. A Disturbed Game of Cards

__

 

The ground under the window had turned to slurry a long time ago. It was a good thing too, or Comet’s landing would have come off a lot worse than it had. **  
**

     She stayed where she had fallen for a long time, half sunk in mud, looking up at the sky in a shell-shocked way. The gummy ghost had stuck its head out of the window and yelled abuse, but hadn’t seemed keen on following. Eventually it had gone back inside. **  
**

     When she was sure it was gone Comet had pushed herself up, slowly and stiffly stumbling into the yard. **  
**

     It was oddly peaceful out there. The rain was resting, fallen off to a chilly mist. The nearly full moon poked through a thinned sheet of clouds, blue light shimmering off the gathered pools. Wind whimpered through the turrets above, and the sound of the ocean drifted up from the far side of the yard, bringing with it the smell of salt and a comforting, familiar feel. **  
**

     There was a large, white stone fountain resting in the middle of the lawn. By some miracle it was still running, streams of clear water rippling from tier to tier before settling in a polished basin. That was the first place Comet had gone, stripping off her soiled riding cloak and dropping it into the lowest pool. She watched as the as dark rings of mud wafted through the basin, then set the lantern on the marble lip and washed her face in the water of the fountain-heads. The lantern had taken the fall worse than she had: a long, ragged crack now ran through the exterior glass, and lose bits rattled inside the housing every time it was moved. Comet knew she should turn it on, check to see if it still worked, but something kept her from doing so. Maybe it was the effect of blunt force trauma, but it felt as though turning on the light would wake something. Something that was better left sleeping. **  
**

     When the ringing in her ears subsided some, Comet began to explore, leaving both the lamp and the cloak behind.   **  
**

     The first thing she did was look for the dragons, or more specifically, any signs that they had passed. It didn’t take long for her to succeed. A little ways past the fountain was a horrendous upheaval of earth. There were no footprints, those had been washed out already it would seem, but no amount of rain could hide the gashes. Somebody had taken off from this spot, or both of them had, it was hard to tell. **  
**

     The notion didn’t bother Comet overly much. Flying was something dragons did, and there was nothing unusual about it; they hadn’t found a suitable spot back here, so they had nipped over the building to check somewhere else. **  
**

     All she needed to do was follow, but there was no easy way out of this courtyard. Not that Comet could see anyways.   **  
**

     She searched over the place again, looking for any sort of exit, but all she saw was the iron fence. It was twisted and dark with age; ten feet of ornate iron spikes guarding the courtyard on all sides. There was one gate leading off of it, at the far back of the yard. At one point this had probably opened on a stretch of castle grounds, but the cliff had eroded since then. The fence was actually hanging over the edge in places, and the gate itself opened on nothing; the sea stretching away beyond, knit into distant clouds. **  
**

     Comet knew better than to go near that gate, she had more than her share of experiences around crumbling cliffs. But there couldn’t be just one way out, not off a courtyard of this size. **  
**

     Her eyes continued to follow the dark pickets. The castle was shaped like a squashed ‘U’, left and right wings swinging forward almost to the cliff’s edge. On the right there was nothing; the gate slunk right up the protruding wall where it disappeared, imbedded into the stones.  To the left the fence stretched further, continuing around the base of one of the building’s spires. Comet’s expression curdled; the gap between the stone wall and the cliff was narrower than she liked. Yes, there was a fence between her and the edge, but that wouldn’t help much if the ground fell out from under your feet. **  
**

      But it was the only place left to go.

     She approached the place carefully, pressing close to the wall as the strip of land narrowed. The stones were clammy under her hands as she shuffled along the tower’s curve, gripping at the climbing stalks of ivy. The ocean churned below, licking the stones of the cliff; cool, wet air rose in billows, whipping her hair into a red gale and spitting salt in her eyes; but the ground stayed solid.   

     Around the curve Comet found a small alcove. It was hemmed in by mats of overgrown foliage, a mix of ivy and what seemed to be creeping rose. The stuff was everywhere, crawling up the walls of the tower, obscuring the windows, and all but pulling down the fence. Wilted flower heads still clung to the vines, brown and limp and soggy, nipped to death by the chill.

     As she had hopped, where was another gate here as well. Comet went straight to it, pressing her way through the briar then froze. Roses had grown over it in a fountain, lacing it shut with their graceful vines. That was a minor problem, hardly worth mentioning. The concern was more in what lay on the other side: the crumbling remains of a cemetery.

     Comet released her hold on the gate and took a step back. She didn’t like graveyards on a good day, but the idea of going through one tonight of all nights was enough to make her sick.

     She stepped away a few more paces, unsure of what to do. After a moment or two of hesitation, she went back the way she had come.

     There was a fresh pack of ghosts waiting for her when she reached the courtyard again. They didn’t give her too much trouble; whether these particular ghosts had encountered her before, or her reputation had proceeded her was hard to tell. Whatever it was, though, most of them fled as soon as her weapon was out. The few that remained were easy enough to drive away.

     When the last of the stragglers had vanished, Comet tramped back to the fountain and irritably collecting her things. It was safe to say that the courtyard enchanted atmosphere was totally gone. The rain was back again, coming down in a demure drizzle, the fuzzy feel in her head was fast turning to a migraine, and after all of her trouble this place had turned out to be a dead end.

     The only thing left to do was go to the castle, find a way to get back inside.

     Comet tramped back towards its looming eves, returning its dark expression in kind. There was going to be no fooling around this time. She knew were she was going in, and she intended to go straight until she reached the front exit, even if she had to blast through a dozen doors to do it. Going back through the window she had fallen from was totally out of the question. Even if she could scale the wet roof in the dark, there was a large, disgusting ghost waiting for her on the other side. She didn’t want to be on the second floor anyways. There were more windows on the ground floor, but again, the protective lattice was an issue.

     Comet continued to march along the building’s length, just outside its stretching shadow. There were doors imbedded in the wall, but the majority of them were also impassable, covered in those idiotic blue vines. She had already made up her mind a long time ago: no matter what she did, she would not be touching those vines. There did seem to be one door, though, all the way on the end of the curve, that wasn’t glowing. She lengthened her stride, stepped around the crumbling, boarded over well, and closed the distance to the door.   

     It was locked, but that didn’t matter much.  

     A good deal of banging later, and the door was open. She allowed the waiting ghosts to pick sides, then charged in, making quick work of the ones who stayed. The last one vanished with an aggravated squeal and everything was plunged into dark.

     Comet raised her sword high over the room, the ionized fizz casting a shadowy light. She stepped forward cautiously, avoiding the junk strewn across the floor and watching for more specters.

     There were a lot of metal pieces lying around, which she assumed were weights. A rack if rusty weapons was tipped over in the corner, and nibbled leather things were moldering off their wall mounted pegs. Excepting a few stray weights, the middle of the floor was empty. It must have been a sparring room, Comet thought, then jerked around to face a movement on her left, ready to swat whatever it was with either the sword or the lamp--whichever was most handy. She froze mid strike, though, when she realised it was only a mirror.    

     She shook her head with something like disgust, sheathed her weapon, and turned her attention to the doors leading off the room. Again, there were two of them, one locked, the other not. She took the unlocked one without a second thought.

     As it turned out, though, it was the wrong move.

     There were more ghosts in the room beyond. More humanoid ghosts. Three of them were sitting around a table, engrossed in what seemed to be a game of cards. At first Comet didn’t notice them; they weren’t totally visible, flicking in and out with a haze of aquamarine and blue.

     When she did see them she froze, thanking her lucky stars that she hasn’t turned the flood lamp on yet. Her first thought was to go back, slip away before they noticed her, but then again, what good would that do? If she tried to force the other door they would definitely hear. It was a miracle they hadn’t heard her breaking in from the courtyard.

     There was another door at the other end of the room. It was ajar just the slightest bit. She was so far in already there wasn’t really a difference going one way or the other. She stepped a little faster.

     But, of course, things didn’t go as planned.

     At first it worked perfectly. Comet knew well enough how to move quietly, and the ghosts were intent on their game. She managed to make it a good three-fourths of the way there before one of them yawned and inexplicably turned around.

     Comet froze, hoping the shadows would obscure her figure (these things’ night vision didn't seem to be all that good, ironically) but when it froze, eyes wide and mouth stuck mid yawn, she knew it hadn’t worked. The other two ghosts gave their companion a confused look, then craned around to see what had caused the disturbance. Then they saw her too, and fell into roughly the same expression.

They looked like a proper pack of codfish.

 

• • • **  
**

 

     E. Gadd wasn’t in the entry when Luigi slid down the ladder; the little room was bright, cluttered, and lifeless. Not knowing what else to do, Luigi waited, and after a moment there was a patter of steps from the next room.

     A second later the professor came bursting through the doorway, looking extremely enthusiastic.

     “Good job, Lad” he blared. “I told you you were a natural!”

     Luigi couldn’t help but give a half smile, despite how cross he felt.

     “This way, this way. I have something to show you,” E. Gadd said, plunging into the back room again. Luigi followed him.

     It was the first time Luigi had been back there, and it was hard to believe that it was part of the same place. The space was narrower and longer than the front room, and much, much cleaner. One wall was set aside for cabinets and a sort of mini, makeshift kitchen, but the rest was entirely dedicated to the computer.

     Monitors of all shapes, sizes, and builds were splayed across three walls in a tight grid, and the stacks of processors tucked under the button riddled desk filled the air with a cherry, monotone note. A tall swivel chair rested in front of it all; Luigi recognized its aged red leather from his video calls with the professor. Several of the wall screens were on--displaying an assortment of charts, a map of the castle, and what seemed to be live feed from some of the rooms he had cleared--these were the only source of light in the room, leaving the rest of the space dim and discolored in the secondary light. **  
**

     But the computer room wasn’t what the Professor wanted to show him, it would seem. Wedged between the file cabinets and the cook station was another door: to this the professor went with almost a skip in his step.

     Luigi followed behind more slowly, trying not to shy at the flashing lights and sorting out his thoughts. He had some choice words for the professor when he had left the baby’s room, but now that he was here in the lab, watching the little man bustle about, the will to say them was leaking away. At least the will to say them in any particular harshness. The professor had got the door open by now (which had taken some doing, as it seemed to have been stuck) and was holding it open expectedly as Luigi crossed the threshold. Luigi stepped up his pace as to not keep him waiting, and the two of them plunged down the stairs beyond.

     It was a disaster down there. Tools, wires, bits of metal, and blueprints overflowing a double workbench and migrating onto the abused dirt floor.The bitter smell of motor oil hung thick in the air. Devices in all stages of absurdity and completion were everywhere, but none of them could compete with the device occupying the far corner of the room. There, taking up the whole of the far wall, was the biggest, most outlandish machine Luigi had ever seen.

     Of course, this was exactly the device the professor went to, weaving through the minefield that was the floor and bounding onto the metal scaffolding running along its side.  

“What is that?” asked Luigi, hanging back on the stairs.

“This,” said the professor, applying himself to its control panel, “Is the Portrificationizer. Step up here, lad! It won’t bite!”

     Reluctantly, Luigi picked his way across the room and climbed the steps of scaffolding himself, eyeing the device warily. It wasn’t so much one machine as a collection of machines all strung together by a conveyor belt. There were all sorts of contraptions along its track: pistons, electric grids, tanks of odd, bluish fluid. Getting caught in the thing didn’t look like it would be hard once it was moving--given how close it was to the scaffold--and it didn’t look like it would be pleasant either.  

     E. Gadd ran up and down the catwalk, calibrating, tweaking and adjusting. With a final tap of buttons on the main control panel the whole monstrosity woke with a shudder and an electric sigh.

     “She’s ready to go! Now plug ‘er in!” said the professor. “The poltergust nozzle, that slot there,” he clarified when Luigi glanced around awkwardly.

     Luigi walked to the spot notioned and slid the nozzle of the poltergust into the waiting niche. The machine bit down on it, and green lights flashed on both the canister and the main control panel. There was a pressurized, airy slurping, the machine let go of the poltergust, and with a shudder and a spit of steam, the whole thing started to move.   

     The first thing to come to life was the tank. Luigi stepped back sharpish as the liquid inside began to churn. E.Gadd had no such hesitations; he ran right up next to it, plastering himself to the port-hole window on its side. As the tank began to settle the conveyor started to roll, bringing with it a series of what seemed to be picture frames.

     Luigi watched with reasonable discomfort as the machine pressed, zapped, and baked the contents of the conveyor, until finally the frames rolled to a stop at the end of the line.    

     “Linda, Nevil, and Chancy,” ticked off the professor, lifting one of the frames off the belt. “Now that’s what I call a right proper start to things. Come take a gander at your handiwork!”

     Luigi wasn’t convinced that he wanted to, but the professor was so enthusiastic it was hard to refuse. He shuffled over to join him.

     There, at the end of the conveyor, were three paintings: the man, the woman, and the baby.

     Luigi had an idea that was where the machine was going, and the concept didn’t shock him quite as much as it could have. He knew paintings could be odd here: he had come to the Mushroom Kingdom through a painting after all, and spent the better part of his first week jumping through even more of them when Peach's castle had been invaded. (Luigi shuddered. That was definitely not a week he would be forgetting any time soon.) But those had been portals to other destinations. Even the portraits of people were portals, the way to reach the… well, bosses entrusted with the keys to each prisoners cell.    

     “Where do they go?” asked Luigi, assuming the professor would understand.

 

     “That’s the beauty of it,” was the triumphant reply. “They don’t go anywhere; they’re their own little patch of nothing.”

     Luigi felt a tendril of unease slither around his stomach.

     “Are you saying that the ghosts are…”

     “Right there in front of us? Yes, in a sense. Quite ingenious, wouldn’t you say?”

 

     Luigi didn’t know what to say.  
 

     “Can they see us?” he asked after a few moments.

The professor chuckled.

     “No, lad, they can’t see us. They’re harmless as a normal painting, and as conscious as one too.”

     “Are-- are you sure about that?”

     “Absolutely,” said the professor, a hint of graveness coming into his voice. I made absolutely sure of that. You can’t keep something conscious cooped up, especially like that. It just wouldn't be right.”

Luigi shuddered at the thought. He was glad the professor shared the sentiment.

     Warily, he picked up one of the portraits himself, the portrait of Chancy.

     “Bet you’re glad to see that one locked away,” said E. Gadd.

     The baby’s glowing green eyes peered back at Luigi from the canvas, all the playful malevolence he had shown in the nursery locked in his still expression. Slowly, he nodded. Yes, it was good to know that he was where he couldn’t do any harm.

     “I’m not sure what I’m going to do with these,” the professor mumbled to himself. “Can’t get ‘em back to the gallery until the mansion’s been cleaned out. I suppose the training room will have to do for now…”

     “Professor?” asked Luigi.

     “What is it, Lad?”

     “Why didn’t you warn me? About Chancy, I mean.”

     “Ah.”

     “I mean, you did mention stronger ghosts, but…”

     The professor sighed.

     “I would have given you more details, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you; thought it would be easier if you just saw them for yourself. And I had no idea that one of the troubled ones would be so close to the front of the place. Though I supposed I should have guessed Chancy would be drawn to the nursery.”

 

     Luigi couldn’t help but agree with him.

     “What other ghosts should I know about, professor?” he asked.

     He instantly regretted his tone, though, as E. Gadd broke eye contact, looking down at the floor.

     “There are a good dozen ghosts like that lose in the place. They can be cunning, and I would be careful of all of them. But Chancy, Chancy should be the worst of it. None of the other ghosts can warp reality like him-- unless there are more boos.”

     “Are there more boos?” asked Luigi again, with a bit less harshness.

     “I don’t know; there very well could be. You should be ready for them all the same.”

 

     Luigi rubbed his face. Well, at least he had dealt with Chancy, and he was reasonably sure he had done it before Mario had a chance to run into him.

     “You want these in the training room?” Luigi asked.

     “Yes,” said the professor.

     Luigi nodded, took a painting under each arm, and followed the professor back up the stairs.  

 

• • • **  
**

 

     Comet had no intention of giving the ghosts time to react. She jumped up, bolting the last few yards to the open door. She would have made it to, if it weren’t for the other specter who loomed up in her way. It gave a surprised kip, jerking back as she skidded and turned, breaking for the sparing room and the yard. But the other ghosts had figures out what she was about by then, and blocked that door too.

     She backpedaled, looking wildly for another way out. The fourth ghost was in the doorway still, and the other three were drifting in her direction, glancing between themselves. Comet kept backing up until she felt something solid, drew her sword, and smashed the on button of the lamp, praying it would work.

     It did. There was a collection of sputtered exclamations as light blasted through the room, casting the ghosts’ long, wavering shadows across the floor.

     The ghost who seemed to be the ringleader went for the lamp, one shadowy hand over his face.

     “Get back!”Comet barked, dropping the lamp on the floor and leveling her weapon at him with two hands. Its advance checked sharply.

     “I said back off!” she snarled as another of the pack moved to advance as well. He too stopped uncertainty, glancing between his companions.

     And then, much to her surprise, they actually listened. Starting with the ringleader, they drew away. The fourth actually half-raising his hands. Comet faltered for a moment, eyes flashing and teeth grit.

 

     “Hold on there, lass,” said one of them, drifting forward the slightest bit.

     “Don’t!” She barked again, leveling her weapon at him instead.

     “Alright, alright, keep your hair on,” it mumbled, sliding back again.   

 

     The three of them glanced to the leader, obviously not knowing what to do. **  
**

     They didn’t move, and neither did Comet. She didn’t understand, they couldn’t possibly be afraid of her. Not if they were anything like the fire-breathing thing in the tea room. Yet none of them attempted to attack.

     Maybe it was the light; it had been off during her encounter with the other ghost, after all.

     Comet took a chance and made a step for the door again. The group exchanged another quick glance, and the ringleader drifted smoothly in her way. She swept the lamp forward, butting it between herself and him. He flinched and squinted, but that was all.

 

     “I’m sorry miss, but I can’t let you do that,” he said.

     Comet completely ignored him and took another step forward. He didn’t back down.  

 

     “What on earth are you doing here?” asked another one of the ghosts.

 

     Comet didn’t say anything, just stood tall and defiant, leveling her sword at the ghost in her way. He didn’t so much as flinch.

 

     “If you think you can challenge me, you’re foolish.” He said. “And it only shows your ignorance. You would do best to go back the way you came in.”

     The man glanced to his companions and they parted, giving her a clear shot to the exit. Still Comet didn’t move.  

     The ghost waited patiently, hands folded behind his back. It was obvious he had no intention of letting her past anytime soon.

 

     “I’m not leaving.”

 

     The man arched an eyebrow.

     “Why not?” asked the first ghost.

     “You can’t get out through that back courtyard, and you know it,” said Comet.

     “Yes you can, lass, just go around to the left--”

     “Through the graveyard!?”

     “Yeah the-- that could be a problem…”  

     “Then how did get into the courtyard in the first place?” asked the ringleader.

     “I came through from the front of the place, and am trying to get back there now, if you would excuse me.”

 

     There was a moment of silence

 

     “How did you manage that?” the second finally asked.  

     “By being very lucky,” said the ringleader.

     “Do you think we can get her out?”

     “Potentially. It’s possible the master of the house is too busy to bother with her.”

 

     “I’m not leaving,” said Comet again.

 

     “What is your problem lass? The old man’s trying to save your life,” piped up the first ghosts.

     “There’s nothing in this old place worth the pillaging anyways,” said the second.

 

     Comet threw him a look of pure indignance.

     “I’m not here for treasure hunting,” she spat.

     “Then what are you here for?” asked the ring leader.  

     “A place to stay, that was it,” said Comet sharply.

     “Heck of a place you chose,” mumbled the fourth.  

     “Was?”

 

     Comet didn’t answer.

 

     Confusion played across the ghost’s face. Not hostility, really, just confusion, then slowly, his bushy eyebrows began to drop.  

     “You weren’t alone when you entered this place, were you?”

     “No…”

     “Woah , woah , wait, there’s somebody else here too? Where are they?” asked the first ghost.

     “Do you think I’d still be here if I knew?”

 

     There was another long moment of silence. A very tense silence.

 

     “Where did you last see them?”

     Comet was silent.

      “Go on, spit it out,” said the first.

     Comet flashed him another look.

     “Near the entrance, in one of the servant’s halls by the kitchen. That’s where I lost her,” she said.

     “How long ago,” asked the ringleader.

     “I don’t know.”

     “Was she attacked?”

     “No, it was before we knew there was anything here.”

     “How can you be so sure.” asked the Second

     “Because she was right behind me, and I would have heard it.”

 

     A few more confused glances were exchanged, but the issue wasn’t pressed any further.

     “I’m going up to those halls to see what I can find,” said the second ghost.

     “And I am going to pay a visit to madame Clairvoya,” said the ringleader. “Atlise, Clives, keep our guest here, and keep an eye on her.”  

 

     With that, he and his companion disappeared through the walls, leaving Comet in the custody of the other ghosts.

 

* * *

Notes:

Things keep getting busier around here, and are looking to continue to get busier until after the holidays. I was trying to avoid this and just work on the story slower, but I think I’m going to save myself the grief and put this on hold until January. I’ll still be around, and I’ll still be writing when I can (not writing has proven to have a poor effect on my mental stability), but I won’t post until the new year if I can help it. Maybe building some back-stock will help me to get onto a consistent every other week schedule, who knows.

 


	11. The Chapter of Running

 

 

     Mario stumbled up the hall, charging back along the passages he had just traveled.

     He had taken the lead now, navigating by memory to the place where their little group had split up. Henry floated along beside him, looking confused and reasonably concerned.

     "I don't understand, where are we going?" he asked.

   "To the front door," said Mario, a bit breathlessly.

     "But that's where the boos went!"

     "I know-" said Mario, but the conversation was cut short as he miss-stepped, hissing as he caught himself.

     "I though that star was supposed to help," Henry said as Mario got back up again. "It's not helping at all."

   "It will help," said Mario with a grimace, then started to move again. "But I have to save it."

     "Why!"

      "Because it won't last forever. I have to save if for when I need it most."

     "So all that was for nothing?"

     "Not for nothing," said Mario, a hardness coming into his eyes. 

     Henry was unconvinced. 

     "But it's pitch black outside! And Raining! Even if you get past the boos you'll never get through the woods like that!"

     "I'm fine, Henry," said Mario.

     "You don't look fine!" shouted Henry.  The tone in the ghost's voice made Mario slow. He looked back and realized with a good deal of shock that the boy was about to cry.

     He dragged to a halt, breathing hard, not exactly sure how to respond.

     "I'm not leaving," he started, calmly and he hopped soothingly, then spoke fast as the ghost prepared to shout at him again. "I'm staying here to help the professor; to deal with King Boo and the other ghosts."

     This did not have the effect that he was hoping for.

     "WHat! You can't fight the boos! You're crazy! Look what they did to you already!" Henry shouted.

     "That's what the power star is for-"

     "No! It was supposed to help you! So you could get away!"

     There were a few moments of awkward silence.

     "Henry, you have to trust me," Mario said. "I know what I'm doing, I promise. But I still need your help. I have to get to the front of this place. Will you show me how to get there? Please?"       Henry looked down at the floor, away from Mario's determined eyes. After a moment Mario sighed and looked down too, gaze falling on his leg.

     He winced.       "Okay..." said Henry finally.

     The ghost took the lead, and the two plowed on.

  Before long they came to the crossroads where Mario had chased off the butler. It was dead there now, the knocked over vase and a few scorches the only sign that anything had ever happened. Mario watched the walls carefully as they approached, keeping an eye open for any telltale shadows on the walls, but there was nothing there, no sign of ghosts or boos. Apparently they hadn't considered this spot worth watching.

     After a moment of hesitation, Henry took the same path the boos had.  The boy was back to anxious observation again, going extremely slow and peering around distrustful at the darkness. He was dim now too, so dim that Mario could hardly see him. As they continued along passage a low chittering became apparent from up the hall. Henry froze, looking frantically back at Mario. Mario's heart rate was ticking up as well, but he kept his expression steady, giving the boy a slow nod. 

     Henry continued to hesitate, looking downright terrified. Mario pressed gently past him, once again taking the lead. He kept close to the walls, making his way down the passage at a painful inch. Henry hung in his shadow, all but clinging to him and almost completely invisible. The only indication that he hadn't left was a pale blue shudder and a slight chill to the air over Mario's shoulder. But no matter how close the boos came, they always seemed to be on the other side of the wall, that is, until a sheen of silver blue came into view up ahead.

     Mario froze, then shuddered at the cold sensation of Henry passing through him. The boy gasped and stammered an apology. Mario just put a finger to his lips, signaling for him to stay were he was.  Carefully Mario edged forward, kindling fire in his hands.

     But it turned out to be unnecessary. There were no ghosts ahead, boo or otherwise. The only thing there was a door slicked over in webs.       Mario let out the breath he had been holding and waved again to Henry, then moved forward to inspect the situation more closely. It was a set of double doors this time, a particularly dense patch of webbing spanning their surface. A pattern of carved hearts was just visible under the tangle.

     "That was the door we needed..." said Henry softly.

     Mario hesitated for a moment, then squared his shoulders and reached for the knob with his good hand. The flashing of the web grew faster as he approached, the whole mass beginning to writhe...

     "Don't do that!" barked Henry, pulling him back.

     Mario hissed at the jarring of his shoulders, and Henry shrunk away.

     "It's fine," he said quickly, before the boy could start apologizing, and again stared down the glowing slick. He kindled another fireball and tossed it at the mass in an experimental way. The vines flashed brightly again, the fire dissipating across their aura before it even reached them. Mario pulled a face, all of a sudden a lot more grateful to Henry than he had been a moment before.

     "There's another passage over here, we can try that," said the ghost, pointing. Mario nodded and followed.

     After a bit of meandering they reached a small side corridor. Mario rounded into it then recoiled as he was faced by another sheet of web, this one spanning right over the passageway. Its glow was dimmed, though, by a stream of yellow light filtering down the stairs beyond.

     "That's really weird," said Henry's disembodied voice. There was a flick of movement and his presence vanished. Mario assumed he had gone to check the situation out and waited, leaning against the wall and listening to the chatter of the boos.

     Whatever they were doing out there they seemed to have moved. The sound was growing fainter, spreading out and traveling away. It didn't do much to ease his nerves, though.

     There was a moment in the hall to this left.

     Mario tense, eyes wide and flashing. He had only seen it for a moment, just a flick of darker grey across the wall, but he was sure he had seen it. He pushed himself upright, staring keenly into the dim passage, looking for the shadow...

     "Guys?" said a familiar voice.

     Mario sagged with relief.

     There was a flick of blue, and Orville dropped into the visible spectrum.

     "Guys!" he said in almost a shout, "The lights are on! The lights are on!"

     Mario winced hard at the volume.

     "Be quiet, or someone will hear!" Henry hissed, darting into the passage through one of the walls. Orville clapped his hands over his mouth.

     "What are you doing here?" Asked Henry.

     "Looking for you guys, of course.  The lights are on in the front room, and in our hall too! Chuncy's gone!" gabbed Orville in a lower tone. "The boos are all raging mad!"

     "How?" asked Mario.

     "I don't know, but there was a weird guy up there, and-"

     Mario's heart thudded.

     "What did he look like? Was he alright?" he asked with an urgency that very much startled the ghost.

     "I don't know, I mean, I think he was alright..." said Orville uncertainly.

     "What did he look like?"

     "Well, he was kinda tall, and green, or wore green, with a green hat and gloves and he... he kinda looked like you..." the boy trailed off, looking up at Mario, realization in his eyes.

     "I have to get there now," said Mario. "Right now."

     He made a move for the hallway, but Orville darted in front of him.

     "But you can't! There are boos all over there! They'll see you!"

     "That doesn't matter," Mario said, trying to go around him.

     "Wait! Wait! There are vines everywhere, You can't get through! He's not even in the house anymore, I swear!"

     "What?"

     "I saw him go out through the front door!"

     Mario blinked. Luigi had managed to get away? It was possible if the rooms were lit, but Mario had a hard time believing the king would just let him walk out like that.

     "Did the boos see him?" he asked.

     "I don't know, but-I-don't-think-so!" Orville blurted as Mario went to go around him again.

     "They didn't show up until after he was gone!"

     Mario studied Orville for a moment, then let out a slow breath. Okay, he had a bit more time then. Not much, but some.

     "Are you sure all the passages are sealed?" he asked.

     "Yes, positive," said Orville, slowly easing out of his body-block stance.

     "There is another way around, though," said Henry softly. "You can go around the outside, the boos shouldn't be there."

     Mario mumbled and rubbed his face hard. That was just what he needed: more detours. But if what Orville said was true, he didn't have much of a choice, and the boys had done nothing but steer right so far...

     "Alright," he said finally, "but we have to hurry."

     "This way," said Henry, hardly missing a beat.

     It turned out the front of the castle wasn't the only place that had grown lively. The halls were ringing inside and out with the calls of boos. Mario knew that this mansion was swarming, but they were everywhere, under the floors, through the walls. Most of them way too close for comfort.

     The situation wasn't doing good things for anyone, but it was having a particularly bad effect on the boys. They clung to Mario in half visible clouds, his personal blue halo, telling him which way to go. Mario didn't complain about this new arrangement, just plowed ahead, using the powerstar to bolster his speed. The powerstar (who had been sneaking him bits energy since they left the observatory) was all too happy to oblige.

     Soon he started to recognize landmarks again. The soft sound of piano seeped from somewhere up ahead. For the third time in the evening, Mario found himself in the butler's hall.       He wasn't terribly concerned. He highly doubted the ghost would try anything after their last encounter, and even if it did, Mario felt more than prepared. He did slow, though, when the song ended and the sound of the piano died.

     He hesitated, lingering against the wall at the branch of the passage. There were no more sounds from the room, but he saw no shadow either. Cautiously, he entered the passage.         The hall beyond was empty, and accepting the flicker of the candles, all was still. Satisfied, Mario picked up his pace again, stepping softly across the red carpet. A short distance ahead was the door; as he drew closer, he heard the faintest sound of humming from inside. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, but at least the ghost seemed to be occupied.

     One of the boys (he wasn't sure who) gave an audible sigh of relief when they reached the end of the passage. Mario spared a last glance over his shoulder, just to be sure, but the halls remained still.  

     "Come on, let's get out of here!" whispered Henry, fazing solid enough to tug his elbow.  Mario nodded and rounded the corner, then started back at the ghost hanging in his way.

     She was drifting just a few inches off the floor, maroon dress billowing as if she was underwater. Mario tried to backpedal around the corner then winced as Henry saw her too and bit back a yelp. The new ghost turned sharply to face them, expression not altogether pleasant. Her eyes flicked from Mario to Henry, then to Mario again, the look slowly changing to curiosity.       "M-melody!" Henry gasped, and she laughed.

     "Hello, Henry," she said, drifting forward a pace. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

     The boy pedaled backwards as she came on, then dove behind Mario as the man stepped forward to meet her, one hand on the power star in his pocket.

     "And what's this?" she said with another crystal laugh. "Have you made a new friend? A new assistant of the professor's, maybe?"

     "No!" barked Orville, dropping in to view as she made another drift forward. "He's not! He has nothing to do with the professor!"

     "Really?" she said, bright eyes flicked up to Mario's again. "Who are you, then?"  Mario's expression darkened; he didn't like her tone.

     "Just let us by, Melody," said Henry, drawing up close over Mario's shoulder.  A smile flashed across her face. "Feisty tonight, aren't we?" she said, then turned back to Mario. "Well? Are you mute?"

     "Please move out of the way," said Mario.

     There was a moment of silence.

     "Is that all you have to say?" she said, sounding very much annoyed, but she buried it with another laugh. "You should have said so sooner."  With that she drifted to the side, creating just enough room for him to pass.

     Mario hesitated, eyeing her intently, then stepped forward. He half expected her to attack as soon as he was within reach, but she didn't, just nodded her head with a sharp smile. Mario did the only thing he could think of and nodded back, then plowed forward down the hall. 

 

• • •

 

 

     Melody pursed her lips as she watched the man disappear. So that was the fellow the boos had lost.

     Well, he hardly seemed like much to her. He had gotten reasonably far, but he could hardly take credit for it with the twins trailing being him like they were. Sweet, stupid little boys.       She gave a light shrug; in the end, it was no concern of hers. When she had finished her little 'stroll' she drifted once again into her room.

     But it wasn't empty.

     There was a flash of movement as she entered through the wall; the tiniest flick of silver. She gave a disgusted grimace, writing it off as one of the grabbers, that is, until she drifted past where it had disappeared.

     It felt like a boo.

     There was a presence radiating from that spot, a little bubble of nerves trickling from under the draped stool by the harp.

     Melody felt caught out. Sent someone to check on her, did they? To make sure she was staying where she should? Well, she would see to that.

     "You know, you should always knock before entering a lady's room," she said. "Come on out."       There was no response, though the anxiety tainting the air grew stronger.

     "Well, come on," she said again, a little firmer.        Hesitantly the boo drifted into view, a deep purple splashed across its face. It wasn't a big boo at all and hardly seemed able to look her in the eye, but he was trying, puffing himself up marvelously.

     Melody laughed a clear little laugh.

     "Oh, don't be that way," she said, waving a hand at him. "What's your name?"

     "Boolevier," he said, attempting to sound important.      "Well, Boolevier, what are you doing in my room?"

     "I don't have to tell you. But if you must know," he added quickly when Melody's expression turned sour. "I was-"

     "Looking for someone?" she finished for him.

The boo looked annoyed.

     "Yeah, I was-but the king's called everyone to the store room-"

     "Shhhh," said Melody softly. The boo stopped talking, expression ridged.

     "How would you like it if I shared with you a little secret? Something special to take back to your king?"  Booliveir eyed her suspiciously then gave a slow nod.

     "I thought so. Don't worry, it's nothing too hard. Just take a peek down that left passage is all. There's a little surprise down there."

     "But the king-"

     "I'm sure the king will like this much better," said Melody, with another sharp laugh.

     The boo eyed her suspiciously, looking towards the wall where she had pointed. 

     "Go on now, hurry. Before it gets away." 

     With one last unsure glance, the boo disappeared through the wall. Melody watched him go with a curved smile, then returned to her piano.   

• • •

 

     Whatever news had been spreading, the message was received.

     Mario had seen more boos in the last few corridors than he had seen since his escape. They traveled in bunches of twos and threes, streaks of silver shooting across the passages, chirping amongst themselves.       And one thing was for sure; they were no longer looking for him.

     He hung in the shadows, ears strained for their chatter, eyes marking every nook he could dive into should a pack appear. Had they been truly looking, he wouldn't have had a chance, but as things stood now they simply darted by, oblivious.

     And wherever they were going, they seemed to be gathering to the same place, all convening on some center point. It was more terrifying to Mario than a gridlock search. There was only one thing he could think of that would interest the boos more than finding him...

       And then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. The boos had all gone, and the halls were deathly silent.

     As soon as he was sure he was in the clear, Mario ran.

     Up ahead the glow of the candles was chilled by a filter of blue. Very soon Mario found himself at the entrance of a new passage, massive, ornate windows sweeping away in both directions. The courtyard he had seen from the upper floor lay beyond, wet, chill and hazy.

     A direction was whispered in his ear and he turned right, watching the windows as he bounded past. As big as they were the metal running through the glass would make getting out of them impossible.

     A few moments later they reached another door. It too was covered in vines.

     Mario skidded to a halt.

     "Oh no..." said Henry.

     Oh no hardly covered it. Mario swallow a cry of frustration, breathing hard through clenched teeth. Of course it would be blocked.

Of course. Why would the boos not block such an easy means for him to escape? Anger and panic churned through him in curls. He probably would have punched something if the boys hadn't been there to see.

     He looked back over his shoulder. Both the ghosts had retreated away, fear in their dim faces. A twinge of guilt mixed itself into his emotional cocktail.

     "I'm sorry," he said, trying to control his breathing. "This isn't your fault."

     "There are a lot of doors. They can't all be blocked..." said Henry, voice quavering.

     Yes they could. At this point Mario would be very surprised if they weren't.

     "Then let's go," he said.

     "Wait, I can check them faster," said Orville. "You just- just stay here, I'll hurry."

     Mario grit his teeth again. He wanted to move. He needed to be moving right now, but the boy was right.

     "Check the kitchen door. The kitchen door was broken," he said.

     Orville nodded and streaked away, vanishing through the wall. Henry still hung back, the most clear thing Mario could see of him a pair of wide, frightened eyes. He sighed and rubbed his face.

     "The guy- the one upstairs- he's your brother?" Henry asked, when the silence became too much.

     "Yes."

     "Oh..."

     And the pitiful attempt at conversation died.

     Slowly, Mario eased himself to the ground, back against a window,  staring vaguely at his sock.  He gave a huffing chuckle as he realized the hole he had worn in it had been patched. Luigi must have done when it was his turn to do the washing. Mario hadn't even noticed.

     When the trill of a boo rang from somewhere far away; Henry snapped to it, flinching. By degrees he inched closer, until he was again resting at Mario's side.

      "You're scary when you're angry," he said softly.

      Mario huffed again, glancing over at him. By the look on Henry's face, he was being dead serious.

     "I'm not angry at you."

     "I know, but I can still feel it..."

     Mario sighed again.

     There was not good way to tell how much time they spent there. Henry sat next to him--or Mario assumed he was sitting; it was hard to tell when he didn't have any legs--looking out of the window. He was still very dim and anxious, fidgeting and playing with his hands, but he seemed to have made his peace with the silence. The blue of the moon came and went with the blowing of the clouds outside, bathing the hall dark and light in turns. The windows above them tainted the shadows with their colored panes. Some of them  were cracked or missing chunks, letting in gusts of wet air. Most of the candles in that hall had long been snuffed, all except a single, particularly stubborn one, spitting softly in the breeze. It was cold.

     There was a movement to their right. Mario glanced up, expecting to see Orville, then froze.

     It was a boo.

     This one wasn't in a pack like the others had been, no, this one was on its own, meandering through the hall in a flowing bob, an incredulous look on its face. Mario stayed still as a statue, eyes fixed on the creature as it came. It was too late to hide. Then it spotted him and froze, eyes bugging.

     Adrenaline coursed though Mario's system. In an instant he was up, lunging for the creature with a fist full of fire. But the boo wasn't sticking around for a fight. It plunged through the closest wall and vanished.

     Mario changed direction and grappled to the first door on that wall. He smashed into it with his shoulder, cranking the handle with all his might. There was a crack and it gave, crashing open onto some sort of sitting room. He charged inside, nearly tripping over a footstool in the dark, and spun a circle in the middle of the floor. The room was empty, the boo was nowhere to be seen.

     That was it then, It was only a matter of time now.

     Mario turned one more circle, fists clenched and mind spinning, then glance sharply back at the hall as another moment caught his eye. It was Orville, staring back at him mouth agape.  After a moment he picked out Henry's soft outline as well, still resting in front of the window, rigid with shock.

     "What do- what do we do-" asked Henry, voice high and cracking.

     "Do about what? What happened?" said Orville, looking between his brother and Mario.

     Mario didn't answer, just snagged a book off one of a nearby lampstand and plunged back into the hall, stumbling again on the same footstool on the way out the door. He shoving both h

ands into his pockets, past the star, past the clattering key ring, into the remains of the map crumpled at the bottom. Something hard brushed his finger from among the shreds, and he snatched at it, fishing out the stump of a old pencil.

     "What are you doing?" Henry asked as he flipped open the book and began a frantic scrawl on the first page, then flinched as he tore it out.

     "The boos will be back; both of you have got to leave," said Mario.

     "What! But-" said Orville

     "No!" shouted Henry.

     "Shh," hissed Mario, then shoved the note at Henry. "Take this,"--the note was followed by the ring of keys--"Take these things to my brother."

     Neither of the boys answered. They just hung there, looking dazed and distressed.

     Mario took a deep breath, forcing his haggard tone into calm.  "Henry, staying here will put you in danger. The boos can't know that you've helped me, either of you. But you can still 

find my brother. I'm sure he'll be back and he doesn't know- I need you to warn him for me."

     There was a moment of silence, then slowly, Orville took the keys.

     "Thank you," said Mario, and started to turn away.

     "Wait!" said Orville, and he froze again. "There's an unblocked door; I found one up the passage."

     "Where?"

     "Just up that way," he said softly, pointing with an unsteady hand. "Along this wall..."

     Mario closed his eyes in something like relief and nodded.

     "Thank you. Thank you both. Now go!"

     They hesitated for just a moment longer then starting with Orville, both boys vanished from sight, taking the note and the keys with them. Mario reached to adjust his hat, then remembered it wasn't there. He settled for rubbing his face instead and pushed forward down the hall, heading in the direction Orville had pointed.  

 

• • •

 

     For the second time this evening, every boo in the mansion had gathered to one place.

     The storage room was alive with them, filled wall to wall with the murmur of their voices and lit almost to the brightness of day with their glow. But there was a distinct feel of tension this time round. Anger bubbled below the surface; a red, aggressive undertone that had been distinctly lacking before. It was turning the atmosphere of the room distinctly sour.

     King Boo blamed himself for this. He was the centerpiece, the heart of the cloud, but try as he might he couldn't hold the same air of calm he had before.

     It was true that this had been a trying evening, but overall, he couldn't say that the circumstances bothered him overly much. Things weren't going as he had envisioned, but the situation had evolved, that was all. Things were still well within the realm of manageable.

     Despite his escape, Mario was still here somewhere. Whether the man was in the dungeon or the halls it didn't really matter. King Boo had little problem letting him run for a while if that's what he insisted on: burn off some of the accesses energy he had. They would corner him again soon enough and put him back where he belonged.

     The others had been more of a problem. As a rule, King Boo liked to know his guest before inviting them into his castles, to know them quite well if possible, and those two had shown a good deal more fight than he had been counting on. But in all honesty, he was more fascinated than annoyed.

       The last lingering concern had been that the three of his guests would at some point encounter each other, but that had resolved itself of its own accord: the king was reasonably sure that one of the intruders at least was dead.

     It was unfortunate. Not how he had wanted things to go at all. The other was still here, likely still huddled in the council room. He should probably have her checked on at some point, but that was a thought for later...

     No, what had the king riled was something entirely different: the disappearance of Bamboozle.

     It would seem that at some point during the chaos, another guest had arrived at the mansion. In the search for Mario the front chambers had been discovered to be lit. All of the room from the foyer to the nursery had been emptied of their ghosts, and Bamboozle, the scout charged with watch the front of the castle, was among those missing.         There was only one person King Boo knew of who was capable of a feat like that. It would seem that the professor had finally returned.

     It was a sharp reminder as to why the king had bothered to take this place initially; that he still had unfinished business. There were several ventures running their course this evening, all interesting and all with immense potential value, but at the end of the day they were undercards. If every one of them fell through, the professor at least would be the king's tonight.

     And no matter what happened, he would have Bamboozle back.

     A shift of excitement churned through the room, jumping like an electric charge across the ranks. Slowly King Boo opened his eyes, turning to face the small boo flitting through the crowd.

   King boo raised an eyebrow as the boo floated to attention before him. He realized the scout was waiting to addressed, and gave a nod.

     "Well? What is it?" he asked, cocking his head.       "I found him!" said the little boo, with a reasonable attempt at gravity.

     King Boo's eyebrow arched higher. "Who have you found?"

     "Mario! And he's almost to the back courtyard! He's almost gotten out!"

     Well. That was unexpected.

     King Boo didn't answer right away, eyes darting back and forth as he considered what to do. It was true, he would rather let the man get away than lose the professor, but on the other hand, he would very much prefer to have both.

     King boo looked around him at the boos crammed into the little storeroom. Their expressions were eager, every one of them turned to him. It was all too obvious what they expected him to do.

      Well, he supposed he shouldn't disappoint. There was still time to deal with his other agenda, after all.

     "Boolderdash?" he said. The boo in question nodded to him and gave a chirp to a few of his squadron.

     "Excellent. Boolsome, take charge of the ambush. This shouldn't take long, but if the professor should arrive before I do, you know how to handling him."

     "Yes sir."

     King Boo grinned widely, and with that, disappeared through the wall, heading in the direction of the courtyard.

 

 

 

Notes: 

 

It feels so good to be writing again. 


	12. What Happened in the Courtyard

As soon as the other ghosts left, Clive shut and locked the door on the far side of the room, closing off any chance Comet had of getting into the halls.

 

The other door was still open, a straight shot to the sparring room and the courtyard beyond. More than once Comet considered taking it, but what would she do then? Go back to the graveyard? Climb the twelve foot, rain slicked fence?

 

And what if the ghosts did find Novi? What would happen if Comet was gone when they came back? And so, against all better judgment, she stayed.

 

Clive was the first to make peace with the situation, if ‘make peace’ was truly the right term. He simply returned to his table, settling into a game of solitaire. The only time he acknowledged Comet’s presence at all was to give a squint at the light, or when he caught her looking to earnestly at the key slurred in with the cards, to pass an unenthused look of warning. Atlas had a bit more trouble, it would seem. He hovered around the room, eyes drifting to the silent guest in the corner. Comet watched him carefully, expression hard and hands clammy. Eventually he lugged a few rusty weights in from the other room; he had been tugging at them ever since.   

 

Nevertheless, Comet didn’t let her guard down for a moment. She stood tall and grim at the far end of the room, fighting the infuriating tremor in her hands and squinting at the tall shadows the ghosts threw against the wall. The shadows were all  she could reliably see; their actual forms were pale in the wash of the flood lamp, just a shimmer.

 

That was why she turned it off, ultimately; and slowly, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, her companions’ dim features sharpened into view.  

 

Clive still flickered, fading in and out as if half asleep. He was scrappy, long in the face, long in the nose too, and it looked like it had been broken at least once before. A few lines of silver highlighted the blue black of his hair, especially where is strayed lose around the ears. Atlas was more defined, almost solid as he hoisted away at the oversized dumbbell. He looked like the top half of a statue of Hercules: huge, with enormous, meat hammer hands. He had probably been blond once, but his close cropped hair and imposing eyebrows were now bleachy white, impressively stark against his green tint.

 

But what struck Comet most was the fact that he, both of them, appeared to be human.

 

Her hair rose, unpleasant thoughts swarming to the font of her mind;  She wanted to scoffed at the loose notions, yet there the ghosts were...   

 

It took her a good long time to realize that Atlas was mumbling to himself, and even longer to realize what he was saying. He was counting off as he lifted, voice growing louder and a distinctly smug look creeping over his face. Eventually he gave a huge, over exaggerated sigh and let the weight fall to the floor. Clive looked up from his game in disgust.    

 

“There,” Atlas said in his booming, hollow voice. “I’d like to see anyone in this place beat that.”

 

He looked around eagerly, but his enthusiasm drowned as Clive paid him no mind at all and he saw Comet’s thin, tight expression.  

 

“The least you can do is be a little impressed,” he mumbled to no one in particular.

 

“You’re dead,” said Comet, after swallowing the sallow knot in her throat.

 

“Well it’s still heavy....”

 

Clive snorted.

 

“Ya got somethin' to say over there, ya big shrimp?” said Atlas, rounding on him. “Lets see you come over here and lift the thing. Fifty times, let’s see it.”  

 

His challenge was entirely ignored.

 

“Ahh,” grumbled Atlas, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He went floating around the room again, eventually coming to rest by the window, his glow lighting up the panes and staining the grey stones blue-green. Comet stepped back sharply.

 

After a moment he drummed his hands on the sill and turned to look at her.

 

“So…” He started, and waited for a response. He didn’t get one and continued anyways.

 

“What’s it like in the world nowadays?”

 

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not from here,” said Comet, ignoring the cold jolt riding down her spine.  

 

“Where you from, then?”

 

“Irrek Nevour.”

 

Atlas’s brow furrowed.

“Must be a long ways away then. If it is so far, what are you doing around here?”

 

“That isn’t your business.”

 

Atlas drummed his hands again and sighed.

 

“Just hold your horses, lass; old captain won’t take his time. If anybody knows what’s happened to that friend of yours, Madame Clairvoya will. You still got me wondering, though; how did you get here in the first place?”

 

“I told you,” said Comet. “This was a place to spend the night. We were trying to get out of the rain.”

 

“Well yeah, but why? Nobody hangs around boo woods at night; just the look of the place puts most people off.”

 

Comet didn’t answer.

 

Atlas shrugged.

“Suit yourself.”

 

But obviously it didn’t suit him, because hardly a minute lapsed before he was at it again:

“Y’ Must’ve gotten lost.”

 

“No! we were not lost!” snapped Comet. “I knew exactly where we were and what I was doing. None of this is your business.”

 

“Alright, alright, whatever you say,” said Atlas, drawing back. “Cap‘ll find your friend soon, and you can be on your merry way; good riddance to ya.”

 

And the conversation was over. Atlas drifted away to another window down the wall.

 

The plank ceiling groaned in the growing cold. Water dribbled through the cracks in the window, collecting in pools on the sill until it overflowed, falling with a soft drip drip onto the floor.

 

“What in tarnation…” said Atlas quietly.

 

Comet looked over at him; the ghost was staring intently at something outside. She turned to look out her own window.  

 

Something was moving, a white wisp weaving between the statues. Her brow furrowed as more of the creatures appeared, at least a dozen of them darting like fish all over the yard. They were round and small and brilliantly white, with beady black eyes and mouths full of teeth.

 

Jaw set, Comet looked back at Atlas. He was half faded from view and ever so slowly sliding away.

 

Clive was looking up from his game now, watching with raised eyebrows. He dropped his cards on the table and driften forward, then jerked back again as the slightest glimpse out of the window.  

 

“Get back from there,” he hissed.

“What in tarnation are they doing?” asked Atlas.

“Get out. Right now,”

But cap said-”

“Get out!”

He darted back to the table and all but threw the key at Comet. Comet picked it up and in an instant and made for the locked door.

 

“Woah, whoa, hold on there,” said Atlas, but she had already opened the door and was gone. He glanced at the window, then darted after her into the hall.

 

Clive brushed down his uniform and returned rigidly to his game of cards.

 

**• • •**

 

It didn't take long for the mansion ghosts to find Mario once the twins left. They oozed from the rooms, through the walls and ceiling, dogging his steps and warbling among themselves...

 

Mario watched them darkly as he plowed down the hall, one hand clamped over his bad shoulder, the other holding gently to the star in his pocket. The ghosts could sense the powerstar it would seem, and were keeping their distance. It was just as well for them.

 

Towering windows passed in a steady stream, every one the same. The only thing that assured Mario he was getting anywhere was the yard beyond, scrolling by just as it should. But all too soon the passage gave way to dark, wallpapered halls again.

 

He kept his eyes forward, chest tightening as the windows were left further and further behind, the passage in front of him stretching on to nowhere. He didn’t have long to worry about this, though. A short ways further he found a branch in the hall. It wasn’t anything special, just a narrow side passage with a door tucked at the end, decorated with a faded pattern of spades. But a draft blew through the cracks of the ill fitting frame, damp and cold; as Orville had said, there were no vines.   

 

Mario rattled the nob few time then jerked on it hard. It didn’t open. For a moment he regretted parting with the keys, but only for a moment. He stepped back, set his good shoulder, and threw his whole weight against the aged wood. The shock shattered through the door, crash rattling off the walls and up the passage behind him. Mario rounded sharply as his fan club of ghosts squealed, fire already kindling in his hand, but they still hanging back, and there was no signs of any boos. He grit his teeth and turned to the door, ramming it again and again. With a boost from the powerstar it finally gave, crashing out onto a soggy corner of porch.   

 

Wet, cold wind slapped him in a gust, trying to slam the door closed again. He caught it on his arm before it could shut and pushed his way out. The boards bowed dangerously under his first step. Mario froze, sure they were going to break, but they held if only barely. Water ran in dribbles through the warped awning, collecting on the porch in slick, dark pools and dripping into his hair. He shut the door on the specters behind him and stepped across the rubbery planks, placing his feet with the the cross-boards. The specters didn’t follow.   

 

He stopped at the edge of the porch and stared out over the yard. Stone statues and a single, skeletal tree were scattered over it, throwing their eerie silhouettes across the grass. A fountain trickled dully in the center of it all, two long dead lampposts standing over it, the wind humming through the broken chinks in their glass. But nothing moved.

 

His eyes lingered over the spot behind the fountain the longest; the spot where he had seen the monster take off earlier in the night. The ground there was pulverized, rain rippling across the miniature pond the dent formed. Eyebrows furrowed, Mario poked beyond the eves, scanning the sky. Clouds swam across it in dark torrents, rushing out over the ocean. Nothing broke the sheet, not so much as a bat, let alone the massive _thing_ he was looking for. At least for the moment.

 

Mario stepped down into the mud, wincing as frigid water seeped through his sock. He made for the center of the yard with fast, uneven strides, then slowed as he reached the little stone path that circled the fountain.

 

Where to go now?

 

It wouldn’t take the boos long to put two and two together: to figure out he had made it into the courtyard. He had no doubt that they would be here, and soon.

 

Wind nipped through his cloths as he turned in the center of the yard, soft, spitting rain misting his face. The same dark pickets from the front of the mansion enclosed the courtyard, hemming him in on all sides. The only break in their stand was a gate in the far back of the yard. He made for it, only to discover the sheer drop that lay beyond: a jagged cliff slipping away to the roaring ocean below.

 

After a good long stare, he stepped away from the edge.

 

He made for the fountain again, scanning the rest of the yard. There had to be a way out of here, but nothing was readily apparent. The fence curled around on all sides, long and imposing. It was no good climbing, and it was too tall for even him to jump…

 

But if he took it in segments, pushed off the parallel bars, or better yet, pushed off a wall--with his leg the way it was it would be difficult, but the powerstar would help with that. Mario began to move again, heading for the place where the fence met the building.

 

There was a movement in the corner of his eye.      

 

Mario turned sharply, his whole frame tightening. The sculptures peered back at him solemnly, but they weren’t the only ones staring. Boos lurked among them, watching him with a collection of wide, toothy grins.

 

He stepped away backwards, eyes fixed on the glowing crowed. There were at least a dozen of them hanging in the shadows, and who knew how many more that he couldn’t see. How long had they been there? Why didn’t they attack? Ever so slowly Mario reached for the star in his pocket...

 

“Running away? How unlike you.”

 

Mario whipped around so fast he nearly slipped. There was the king, only a few feet away, hovering between him and the fence.  

 

King Boo cocked his head, amused, then looked Mario up and down expression growing serious.  

 

“Though, I must say, you aren’t looking terribly well. I suppose I could respect a tactical retreat. But as I’m sure you know, that’s something I can’t allow.”    

 

Mario took another slow step back.

“Then call down your pets. Get it over with,” he growled.  

 

King boo raised an eyebrow.

“My pets?”

 

Mario just glared.  

 

“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said the king, sounding indigent. “I suppose you could mean any number of the mansion ghosts, but no. It is only us tonight.”

 

Mario fell into a ready stance, teeth grit and fire flicking in his hands.

 

“So hasty to get on with things, but as you wish,” said the king, smile widening, a soft purple creeping across his glow. The gem in his crown picked up the tinge, purple light leaping to life in its depths. Mario threw himself to the side as the blast came, shockwave sending him sliding across the mud. He coiled himself and leapt back again as another crack spit the air beside him. The whole world was drowned in a tearing flash.   

 

Mario staggered up, squinting through the whiteout. His eyes went wide as the yard before him cleared.

 

A shimmering purple barrier furled over the center of the courtyard, rippling like water and arching  high over his head. Any statues caught in the arena were smooth and whole, a hundred years of ageing undone. The water of the fountain hung in a glimmering arch the every raindrop stood still, reflecting the glow of the barrier in a thousand crystal beads.    

 

King Boo floated in the center of it all, aura crackling and grinning like a carved pumpkin, eyes glowing as bright as his crown. He raised an eyebrow, waiting to see what Mario would do.

 

Mario lunged for him.  

 

King Boo laughed as he came, voice warbled and distorted. Mario rammed his hand into his pocket, grappling for the star. It found his reaching fingers and world swirled gold as it fused to him, new energy flooding through his system.

 

The king’s laughter stopped dead. He recoiled, grin twisting in shock and horror.

“How did you-- where?” he snarled.

 

His crown flashed as Mario leapt into the air, letting lose another thick pulse of dark energy. It hit Mario in a wave; the power star repelled the blast like the wrong kind of magnet, sending him hurling back between the statues.

 

Lightning fell from the barrier, ripping apart the place he had landed. The mud fizzed and boiled, but Mario was no longer there. He wove through the statues, beelining for the king, smaller boos recoiling away from him in terror.   

 

But the king was no longer by the fountain.

 

Mario skidded, kicking up liquid turf. He could hear the king’s shriek of displeasure, but it was from nowhere in particular. Something loomed over his shoulder, biting into the aura of the star. Mario whipped around, throwing up a wall of fire between himself and the king. King Boo squealed and retreated, vanishing into air.

 

Mario spun, taking in all the courtyard, but King Boo was nowhere to be seen.

“Come on!” he shouted, then jumped back as a dark smear of energy exploded at his feet. He lunged for the spot it had come from and pass through something thicker than air. A buzzing, cold sensation lapping at his shield. The King howled again, his invisibility stuttering as he retreated from the contact.

 

Mario bounded after the retreating shape. He leapt high, aiming to bounce off the king’s head, but was checked by another pulse and sent hurling  into the barrier. It repelled him with breathtaking force, a jolt searing through him despite the powerstar’s glow, and sent him skidding back into the center of the ring.  

 

King Boo was gone again.

 

Mario kindled fire in his hands, whipping it into the air around him in sheets. The suspended rain hissed, going up in blankets of steam. Whines and whimpers went up as well, from all around him. So the peanut gallery had finally decided to get involved, had they? Mario leapt again, high and far, clearing out to a new section of the courtyard. Except for the thrum of the barrier, all was silent.

 

Mario ran forward, throwing up more sheets of flame, but this time there was no reaction.

 

“You coward!” he shouted into the now empty field. There was a collective, invisible hiss, but no attack. Mario stood by the fountain, panting, turning slow circles and eyes flashing. He was running out of time…

 

He didn’t notice the barrier above him writhing. By the time he heard the crash there was no chance to get out of the way.

 

Lightning streaked across the aura of the power star like a split arrow. The world drowned in white heat and sound. Mario staggered away, blind and deaf, skin prickling and ears ringing. Another blast of ether took him in the back and he fell forward, eating dirt. The laughter of the boos whispered over him, sounding indistinct and far away. What he did feel, though, was the bite as they dove at him, taking it in turns to siphoning away the star’s power. He rolled to the side and whipped upward with a blast of fire. The suspended rain hissed into a mat of vapor, and the boos flew, shrieking, to a safer distance away. Mario staggered to his feet.

 

“Running out of steam, are we?” said the king from among the statues, his gem already glowing for another blast.  

 

Mario’s first step was unsteady, but it was the only one. He careened forward, dropped low at the first shot, leapt clean over the second, pounded off  one of the fleeing boos as the king recoiled, fading again into the invisible realm, and landed hard with his one boot on the gem of the crown.

 

There was a crack.

 

Energy erupted from the crack. For an instant it fizzed around him, sizzling across his skin and singeing the tips of his hair; then he was blasted away like a mento out of a soda bottle, sent sliding across the ground in a steaming red bolt.   

 

Somewhere behind him, he heard the king shriek, the sound joined by panicked squeals from the other boos.

 

He pushed himself up on his hands and knees, still steaming. Bright blobs swam before his closed eyes, and pins and needles ran through his whole body despite the star. The ground below him bucked, throwing him a few inches into the air. He flailed, eyes snapping open, just in time to land with a plop in the mud again.

 

Mario scrambled, clambering into the lee of one of the statues as the ground rolled again, turf billowing like a shaken sheet, like no ground had the right to do. The world twisted, colors rolling together in a slur. The walls of the arena royalled, wavered, then folded in on themselves, giving way to the smell of salt and darkness.

 

The rain started to fall again.

 

The aura of the power star glowed dully, flashing in and out like a dying battery. Mario gripped the pedestal of the once again weathered statue, forcing down nausea with deep breaths of cold air. The shrieks of the boos rang from behind him, mixed with the metallic, deep crackle of magic. He looked back.

 

King Boo was on the ground, bright as a beacon, energy streaming from his crown, his eyes, leaping across the puddles around him until they they boiled. The other boos flocked around him, juttering as the energy spiked between them, splitting the burden as best they could.

 

And then the King saw Mario and let out an unnatural howl of rage.        

 

Mario backpedaled, heart falling into his shoes as the king rose into the air again, eyes red and murderous. He heaved himself to his feet and ran, staggering for all he was worth towards the fence at the edge of the yard. He could feel the star spotting, propelling him forward in uneven, ragged bursts. Just a little longer; just one last burst to get him over the fence...  

 

His feet slipped on the mud, robbing him of his traction, each step sucking as the wet ground tried to claim his remaining shoe. He stumbled over something hard in the dark, and his next step was blessedly solid: more stones embedded in the ground. But the next rang hollow. There was the soft crack of rotting wood.

 

Mario threw his weight backwards, pinwheeling his arms in an attempt to kill his momentum. It was no good. The boards beneath him gave way and he fell, plunging strait down into the depths of the old well.

 

* * *

 

Notes:

 

I don’t know if I’ve hit the mid book doldrums, if taking a break over the holidays was a horrible idea, or if I just hate writing fight scenes that much, but ugh, this was… an experience to write. I’m so tone deaf to this chapter right now. I’ve read it so many times I can’t tell if it’s good or not for peanuts. I just hope it didn’t short-charge Mario his climax.

 

At least I won’t have to look at it again for a while: until I come back around for the edit. Or until you guys start calling out problems. Whichever comes first.     


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